


Communications

by Ghostery



Series: Jim + Tilly Friendship [4]
Category: Star Trek: Discovery, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst, Drinking, Everyone Needs A Hug, Explicit Language, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Klingons being Klingons, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Original Character(s), Mostly Canon Compliant, Multi, Non-Graphic Violence, Not A Fix-It, Not Really Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Redshirts being redshirts, Tarsus IV, minor injuries to major characters, that's all Tilly's fault
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2020-04-12 11:34:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 34,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19131217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostery/pseuds/Ghostery
Summary: “We’ll stay in touch, right? Promise me?” He whispered.“Of course we will,” Tilly whispered back.---Set in seasons one and two of Discovery. Jim and Tilly keep in touch after they both leave the Academy. What do they talk about?





	1. Part One: Season One - Graduation Day

**Author's Note:**

> Starting just a bit before Discovery and going all the way through seasons 1 and 2 of the show, covering the communication between James T. Kirk and Sylvia Tilly. There's also a bit that takes place after season 2. This is mostly finished and will not include anything shown after season 2 of Discovery, not even if the upcoming short treks turn out really cool. (Although, if they could find a way to cast a young Kirk, that'd be great.)
> 
> Edited: formatting on September 4, 2019

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tilly swallowed. “I’ve been assigned to a ship, too.” She looked down at her feet. “I was requested specifically.”
> 
> “Really?” Jim asked.
> 
> Tilly looked back up. “Yeah, I’m to report as soon as it leaves the shipyard for its shakedown cruise. It’s going to be a few months from now, but still… I’m not going to be here at the Academy for the next year.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place post "Doesn't Hurt to Try" and pre-Discovery season one. Tilly's family is based on what's shown in The Way to the Stars by Una McCormack.

Tilly stood only a little off to the side as Jim’s family gathered around him to give their congratulations. It was only fair, Jim would be assigned to a ship and sent out into the fray and danger of war. They probably wouldn’t see him again for months. Previously, it wouldn’t have been such an issue right away, freshly graduated officers had a little time to themselves before they were assigned. The war had changed all that. Jim would be on a ship within the next couple days.

She’d always liked Jim’s family, ever since she met them and they cleared up the friends vs. dating thing. They were nice. With her father being away a lot and her mother being… well, her mother, they filled in some of the gaps for her. Even Sam had his moments. Hell, she was probably closer to both Sam and his wife Aurelan than her own step-sister at this point. It was kind of a bummer Aurelan hadn’t managed to make it to the ceremony, but she was presenting her thesis for her Master’s degree. It wasn’t her fault Graduation was during the middle of the week.

“Where’d you get assigned to, Jim?” Winona asked.

“The Farragut, Mom.”

“Well, that’s not the worst place. If you were hoping for combat, though, Son, I don’t think you’re going to get much there,” George said.

“Aww, I bet that’s a real disappointment to you,” Sam teased.

“Not really, I’m a technician, Sam. Tactical wasn’t my focus. You know that,” Jim chided.

“Well, what about you Tilly? Why weren’t you up there graduating?” Sam asked, drawing her into the conversation.

“Because she’s smarter than me,” Jim said with a smile, “She had the brains to decide to stay and study another year.”

Tilly nodded. She wasn’t sure what else to say. That had been the plan after all, but even the best-laid plans… Well. She didn’t want to interrupt Jim’s moment with that particular revelation.

Jim, on the other hand, had other plans.“Mom, Dad, I think Admiral Terral is trying to get your attention. You should probably get to him before he gets over here,” he said. Tilly looked over and Jim wasn’t just making it up. Admiral Terral was definitely headed to their group.

“We’d better go see what he wants,” Winona sighed.

“Yeah, if he starts yelling ‘Kirk’ it’s going to get confusing. The only ones safe would be Junior and Tilly,” George said. They headed away to the Admiral. Sam trailed after his parents after Jim shot him a look.

“Okay, Tilly, fess up,” Jim said to her once his family was out of earshot.

“Fess up to what?” Tilly asked.

“If I knew I wouldn’t be asking you, now would I? What aren’t you telling me?”

Tilly swallowed. “I’ve been assigned to a ship, too.” She looked down at her feet. “I was requested specifically.”

“Really?” Jim asked.

Tilly looked back up. “Yeah, I’m to report as soon as it leaves the shipyard for its shakedown cruise. It’s going to be a few months from now, but still… I’m not going to be here at the Academy for the next year.”

“Who requested you and for what?” Jim asked.

“Lieutenant Paul Stamets and I don’t know yet. Obviously, it has something to do with astromycology, but I don’t know anything specific.”

“I thought Stamets was a civilian scientist.”

“He was. Maybe he got patriotic,” she ventured.

Jim looked incredulous. “Developed a terminal case of jingoism, you mean? From what you’ve told me about him… Nah, they probably offered him his wildest mushroomy dreams. Whatever those are.”

Tilly rolled her eyes. She could guess what those dreams were, but she knew Jim didn’t really care about Stamets’ research. He only cared about Stamets at all because she did. He was less about theory and more about practical engineering.

“Here I thought I was going to have at least one friend I wasn’t going to have to worry about for a while,” Jim said, looking at her softly and smiling just a bit.

“Sorry,” Tilly said.

“Don’t be, you always told me your work was important. I just didn’t think it was get pulled into a war important. Guess I should have, huh?” Jim asked, but it was rhetorical. He took her hand and squeezed it gently.

“Yeah, I’ll be the one here worrying about you and everyone else for a little while though, before you have to start worrying about me.”

“Yeah, that’s a sort of silver lining, I guess. There’s always a chance the war will be over by that time too,” Jim said wistfully.

“Yeah,” Tilly said. She wished she could believe the war would be over by winter in San Francisco. However if history had taught any lesson, it was wars often lasted longer than anyone in any given top brass would acknowledge, at least until the next spring.

“Look at you two, aren’t you a picture?” It was Sam framing them with the thumb and index finger of each hand. He was coming back with George and Winona following behind.

“Oh, get off it already, Sam,” Jim said using his other hand to bat at his brother’s outstretched arms.

Sam laughed. “Look, you’re so annoyed with me and you still can’t let her go.”

Tilly glared, but it only made Sam laugh harder. “Look, I’m just trying to help you two out. I mean, if you two just get married now, you won’t have to do a subspace radio wedding when Jimmy here gets into the first bit of trouble. Plus, I always wanted a little sister. Tilly’d just about fit the bill. Now, if only you two would get with the program…”

“Not happening,” Tilly said at the same time Jim started to speak.

“Adult adoption is a thing, you know, no marriage required. Take it up with Mom and Dad.”

“Oh, but convincing you two to just get married seems so much easier.”

“Okay, enough Sam. I don’t want you two fighting this out on the Academy lawn,” Winona said, exasperated with her sons for the millionth time this visit. “Your brother says they’re friends. Tilly says they’re friends. That’s the end of it.”

“Okay, Mom,” Sam replied, still chuckling a little. “Anyway, you both look way sadder than when we left, what happened?”

“I’ve got a ship posting, too,” Tilly said, almost contrite.

“Oh, sweetie,” Winona said tearing up again and hugging Tilly. “You haven’t even graduated yet.”

“I know,” she whispered into Winona’s shoulder.

“She was requested because of her special field of interest,” Jim added.

“Oh hell, they’re going ahead with that project?” George said, shaking his head, “I know they were kicking it around, but last I heard they thought the guy was cuckoo.”

“They’ve fast-tracked it,” Tilly answered, once Winona released her.

“Damn, kiddo, I don’t know whether to feel sorry for you or not,” George said.

“Me neither,” Jim added.

George cleared his throat and took a step closer to them. “Remember, you two, be careful out there. Take care of yourselves. Take care of your shipmates. Write often. Come home.” George looked into their eyes, putting a hand on one of their shoulder’s apiece. “You do that and you’ll be damn fine officers.”

“Especially the coming home part. I really can’t emphasize that enough,” Winona added.

Two days later Jim shipped out with a lot of fanfare. There were masses of new ensigns, lieutenants, and more experienced officers heading to shuttles. Tilly was there, with Jim’s family, to say goodbye. Tilly actually didn’t cry, but it was a close thing.

Especially, when Jim hugged her. “We’ll stay in touch, right? Promise me?” He whispered.

“Of course we will,” Tilly whispered back.

A few months later Tilly left, too. The Kirks all showed up and so did her dad, her granna Adele, and her step-grandfather Quinn. Her mom didn’t. She was too busy, even more busy than usual since she was on the Federation Security Council. It was a bit of a letdown, but Tilly couldn’t be surprised by this. Why would this be any different than everything else?

It was a quieter day and there were fewer shuttles heading up to the ship, only Discovery was leaving and since they were only on a brief shakedown cruise, not even the whole crew was going to be there yet. After one last tearful round of goodbyes, Tilly was on a shuttle to Discovery.


	2. Context is For Kings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Message From Cadet Tilly, Sylvia
> 
> To Ensign Kirk, James T.
> 
> I’ve been picked for my first ever boarding party!
> 
> Wish me luck!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> During and After Context is For Kings.  
> The first half of this is from More Fun to Talk, so if you want to skip ahead to the three asterisks *** I won't blame you.

 

“No roommate yet?” Jim’s holographic image said from his spot on the chair that was on her side of the room while Tilly sat cross-legged on her bed.

“Just got one yesterday. She’s supposed to be temporary, though.”

“Temporary? How the hell can they finally give you a roommate only for her to be temporary?” Jim said, bemused.

“Jim, she’s _Michael Burnham_ ,” Tilly said. She could hardly believe it herself.

“ _What?_ I think the transmission must be breaking up because it sounded like you said your roommate was Michael Burnham. Starfleet’s first convicted mutineer _Michael Burnham_? What the hell is she doing on a Starfleet ship _Michael Burnham_? That one? The one that picked a fight with Klingons and her captain? _That Michael Burnham_?”

“Yeah,” Tilly said. “That’s the one. Something happened to the shuttle she was on and we picked it up.”

“Shouldn’t she be in the brig?” Jim asked.

“Probably, but she got in a fight in the mess with the other prisoners. I think they had to go to sickbay.” Tilly said.

Tilly was trying really hard not to be nervous about that. Michael hadn’t seemed prone to random violence to her. She was probably not in that much more danger than usual. Surely, the senior officers wouldn’t have stuck her with someone they thought would hurt her.

“So they put her with you and not in a brig cell by herself? I know you really wanted a roommate Tilly, but this is ridiculous.” Jim said. “If I were you I’d complain.” Tilly let out a little mirthless laugh at that. Jim must have less imposing people on his ship. She couldn’t imagine Stamets, Landry, or Captain Lorca listening to her complaints. She couldn’t even imagine talking to Captain Lorca at all. Maybe Commander Saru would listen, but he’d been on the Shenzhou with Michael, he probably wanted to hear about her as little as possible. She also wanted to make a good impression. No. Tilly knew she was probably stuck with Michael for as long as Michael was on board.

“It’s only for a few days and she’s so quiet I barely know she’s here when she’s off duty,” Tilly said.

“Off duty? She’s on duty?” Jim rubbed his temple.

“I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“You don’t say. The way your ship works gives me a headache.” He said. Tilly just shrugged. She was a cadet, it wasn’t like there was anything she or even Ensign Kirk could do about it. The door slid open. Michael’s shift must have ended. Tilly had lost track of time.

“You are conducting a social call. My apologies.” Michael said. Tilly had known her only for a handful of hours, but sometimes Michael could sound so Vulcan that it made Tilly want to double check her ears for points.

“Don’t worry about it,” Tilly said brightly, probably too brightly. “Jim was just asking about my new roommate. Jim, this is Michael. Michael, this is Ensign Jim Kirk. We were at the Academy together.”

“Hello,” Michael said.

“Hi. Nice to meet you.” Jim said sounding completely sincere and warm. Tilly wanted to groan, he was turning on the charm on her mutineer temporary roommate of all people. Michael just raised an eyebrow.

“Excuse me,” Michael said, heading into the bathroom.

“Huh. You weren’t kidding when you said she was quiet.” Jim said.

“She was raised on Vulcan.” Tilly offered.

“Couldn’t tell.” Jim said dryly and then turned away, “Oh, damn, you’re right. Thanks for the heads up.” He turned back. “Tilly, I’ve got to go.”

“Alright. Go do fun important ensign things.” She said.

Jim rolled his eyes. “Good luck with your roommate. Stay safe.”

“You stay safe, too. Bye.”

“Bye.”

The connection closed and Jim’s image winked out. Tilly counted the seconds until Michael emerged from hiding. She got to forty-seven. Michael sat on her bed.

“I’m sorry for intruding on your—”

“Really, don’t worry about it. It’s not like there’s anywhere else you can go right now.” Tilly said trying to infuse kindness and understanding into the matter-of-fact words. If she had to live with Michael, she didn’t want to hurt her again. She had regretted her words in the lab as soon as she had said them.

“I hope my presence did not cut your conversation short.”

“It didn’t. He’s going on shift soon.” Tilly said. Michael seemed satisfied with that and stretched out on her bunk, folding her hands on her stomach and staring at the ceiling. Tilly wondered briefly how she could go from standing to sitting to laying down so quickly and neatly. She also knew she probably wasn’t going to get anymore conversation out of Michael today. Tilly twisted around and snagged a PADD off her desk and began to browse through the documents on it for anything that could help Stamets with getting longer jumps out of the Spore Drive. Well, she had to try.

 

* * *

 

Ensign James T. Kirk had just sat down with his tray during his lunch break when the PADD he’d been reading beeped at him.

“Ooh, Jim’s got a message? Did Pyszczek decide to give you the time of day?” Ensign Ziccardi asked with a leer as he leaned to try to see the display. Jim waved him off.

“Heh, in his dreams maybe,” Ensign McCall replied, “Pyszczek barely knows Jim dear exists,” she teased.

Jim ignored them, took a drink of his coffee, and opened the message.

“Whoever it is he’d rather talk to them, clearly,” Ziccardi said, looking knowingly at McCall.

Message From Cadet Tilly, Sylvia

To Ensign Kirk, James T.

I’ve been picked for my first ever boarding party!

Wish me luck!

 

He frowned. What was Tilly doing on a boarding party? Engineers didn’t really see combat unless someone tried to take over Engineering. Granted that happened often enough they got a little extra training, but putting Tilly on a boarding party during a war seemed excessive.

Jim had already been worried about her. Sure, what little he’d seen of Burnham hadn’t exactly put him on high alert and had been oddly reassuring, but he was still questioning the command capabilities of Discovery’s captain. He was pretty sure his mom, dad, or Garrovick would have simply found Burnham a brig cell to herself and not stuck her with a cadet. It just struck him as irresponsible, indicating a certain lack of regard for the wellbeing of the crew. Now the guy had okayed Tilly going on a boarding party? A cadet going out on a boarding party from a science vessel with a complement over one hundred? The man must think people were just disposable or something to send an Engineering division cadet out on what was probably a tactical mission.

He tried to be a little more charitable. He didn’t actually know the nature of the mission and jumping to the worst possible conclusion wasn’t helping. Tilly could be useful enough on a search and rescue or salvage operation. He just had to hope that was what she was doing, but either way, he’d be worried until he heard from her again.

He tapped out a reply.

Message From Ensign Kirk, James T.

To Cadet Tilly, Sylvia

Good Luck.

 

“It isn’t bad news is it?” McCall asked, putting down her glass.

Jim put the PADD down and looked at her and Ziccardi. All hints of their previous teasing were gone. “No, not yet anyway. A friend of mine on another ship got picked for a boarding party,” Jim said, starting to eat.

“That’s rough,” Ziccardi said sympathetically. “Knowing someone on the front lines… It’s awful.”

Jim looked down, feeling horribly lucky. He hadn’t lost anyone yet. His family was safe and his friends had been fortunate so far. Ziccardi’s brother had been at the Binary Stars. Jim hadn’t asked which ship, it was a pretty rough subject. His wife was a medic on a medical transport ship. Normally, a medical posting wasn’t so dangerous, but Klingons didn’t recognize any Federation conventions about war. In fact, they seemed to have contempt for them.

McCall was nodding, even though she didn’t look up from her plate. She’d lost her fiancée about two months ago in a battle. “Tell us how it goes, Jim,” she said and then collected herself enough to keep eating.

“I will,” Jim promised.

It took until a little after dinner for him to get an answer from Tilly. He was procrastinating writing his parents back, message open without any idea of what to say, when he got her reply.

Message From Cadet Tilly, Sylvia

To Ensign Kirk, James T.

Made it. Salvage op. Got shushed by Klingon. One casualty from security. Tired. Lots of running w/ equipment.

Talk later.

He felt a lot of emotions reading that and the foremost was relief. She was fine, it had just been salvage, but the Klingons had apparently beaten them to it and someone had died. He felt sick to his stomach because he was so glad it wasn’t Tilly. Someone had still died, someone wouldn’t be writing to their loved ones anymore. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt confusion. Klingons usually didn’t tell Humans to shut up, they just shut them up, as far as he could tell.

Bobbing off far in the distance was the odd realization that shushing was a shared vocal quirk with a similar meaning between the two species. Who would have guessed? Not him.

Message From Ensign Kirk, James T.

To Cadet Tilly, Sylvia

Shushed by a Klingon? What the hell?

Glad you’re ok.

He turned back to the message he had been putting off writing to his parents, feeling freshly inspired to talk to them, while he still could. He didn’t know what was going to happen to him, after all. Even though he wasn’t at the front lines or anything, there was always a chance. Tilly didn’t write back before he went to sleep.

When he woke up, she still hadn’t written back. Well, he understood. She had said she was tired, but he was really curious about that Klingon, so he tapped out another message.

Message From Ensign Kirk, James T.

To Cadet Tilly, Sylvia

Tilly, could you please explain the Klingon thing?

It’s just they don’t shush people. They’re usually more violent than that.

 

This time he only had to wait a few minutes before she got back to him. She had probably just missed his previous message or hadn’t checked yet. She never was very good about things like that before she’d had some caffeine.

Message From Cadet Tilly, Sylvia

To Ensign Kirk, James T.

Found Klingon while trying to salvage stuff. Turned out there was a bigger alien that had gotten there first. Klingon shushed me. Alien killed Klingon. Ran from alien. Finished salvage. Left.

That’s really all that happened and no, I don’t know anything about the other alien.

Didn’t really get a good look.

So, there had been another mystery alien. One Klingons were afraid of or didn’t like at the very least. An image appeared in his mind and he had to share if only he could remember what the animal was called. Oh, well, it’d come to him. He sent the message anyway. Tilly would understand.

Message From Ensign Kirk, James T.

To Cadet Tilly, Sylvia

I wonder if the rumor about Klingons and those small fluffy puffball animals is true? All I’m picturing is a giant one of those rolling around trying to squish a Klingon.

 

 

In her quarters Tilly sputtered reading that, narrowly avoiding a spit take or tea shooting out of her nose. She started coughing after attempting and failing to swallow. Her nose, throat, and lungs burned from the only slightly cooled tea. Her eyes watered.

“Tilly?” Michael asked alarmed, rushing to her side.

Tilly held up an index finger for a second and continued coughing. She grabbed her napkin and wiped her face. Then there was no avoiding it, she noisily blew her nose.

“Wrong way,” Tilly croaked.

“Ah.” Michael was still looking at her with a mix of curiosity and skepticism, she walked to the other side of the table, back to the bag she was unpacking on her bed. “What set this,” Michael’s gesture encompassed all of Tilly that was visible over the table, “off?”

Tilly waited till she could talk a little more normally to respond. “Remember my friend Jim?”

“The Ensign you were speaking to only forty-one hours ago? Yes.”

Of course, Michael would remember, Tilly thought. “I didn’t tell him anything important about the boarding party…” Tilly trailed off at Michael’s incredulous expression. “Really, I didn’t. I just told him it was salvage and I got shushed by a Klingon, but an unknown alien killed the Klingon. I was very vague. I promise.” Tilly insisted.

“It’d probably be best if you refrained from mentioning a lot of what happens on this ship.”

“Oh, I do. He doesn’t even know what I actually do here. Just that it has to do with astromycology and that’s only because I did a lot of work in this field at the Academy. None of that was secret, by the way. He just doesn’t know any details. He prefers more conventional engineering work.” Tilly shrugged. “Anyway. He’s picturing the alien from the Glenn as a giant tribble.”

Michael raised an eyebrow and looked back down at the table, but Tilly saw her small smile anyway. “If only. If it had been it wouldn’t have fit as easily into the Jefferies’ tube.”

Tilly laughed and after a few seconds Michael even joined in quietly.

 

Message From Cadet Tilly, Sylvia

To Ensign Kirk, James T.

You need to put a warning before you write something like that. I scared Michael. She thought I was choking to death.


	3. The Butcher's Knife Cares Not For the Lamb's Cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After The Butcher's Knife Cares Not For the Lamb's Cry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I really don't buy into the idea that everyone in Starfleet, let alone the entire Federation, knows everything that goes on with Discovery. It just strikes me as ridiculous.

“So, how was your week?” Tilly asked. 

“Fine, not a lot happened. We’re just running supplies right now, but I can see you’re dying to talk about yours.”

“Oh, I wish I could. I so wish I could, but I’m pretty sure most of it is classified by now.”

Jim blinked, taking in this information. “That’s rough. Most ships just have to scramble their messages and locations… Yours is something else.”

“Tell me about it.” Tilly paused, looking at Jim’s image. There was one thing she could talk about. “Jim, what’s your captain like?”

“Garrovick? Pretty average as captains go, I guess. Demanding, but not without compassion. He doesn’t seem to have any great ambitions to get much higher up the ranks, he likes being a captain. He’s reassuring. He wants the war to be over just as much as any of us. He’d settle for a cease-fire, I think.” Jim shrugged. “He’s not much different from a lot of my parents' friends. Why?”

“I, um, worked in a different lab for a while a few days ago. There were all sorts of, well, specimens… No, that’s not right. There were bodies. Like, alien bodies and weapons. I didn’t recognize a lot of them.” Not that her lack of recognition really helped, at all.

Jim stared and then, “Tilly, what the—”

“I know. Believe me, I know.” Jim didn’t even know half of it. He didn’t know about the tardigrade. He didn’t know she’d snuck spores from the lab out to it, on Michael’s hunch. He didn’t know what the tardigrade had done to Landry or the fact that Captain Lorca had it brought over to their ship, after seeing it had killed Klingon warriors without so much as a tiny scratch of damage to itself. He didn’t know it was now their Spore Drive navigator. He didn’t know it was a good part of the reason the Federation still had Corvan II. He didn’t even know they had a Spore Drive.

“Are you implying someone has some sort of murder lab?” Jim asked slowly like he couldn’t believe he was even asking the question.

“I hope not. I’m sure all the skeletons and such were obtained legally.” She sincerely hoped this was the case, but she knew there was a black market out there. Her dad talked about how sometimes people would traffic artifacts that the people they rightfully belonged to would never consent to let leave the planet. 

“I don’t even know how to respond to that, except what does this have to do with your captain?”

“I mean, he has to know about it, right?” She knew he must, but she didn’t want to let Jim know that. He already didn’t like the way Captain Lorca ran the ship. She was pretty sure the lab _was_ Captain Lorca’s. Maybe he just had an interest in paleontology and weapons? That was reasonable, right?

“Probably, I’m not sure which one I’d prefer to assume, to be honest. It’s pretty terrible either way,” Jim shrugged.

“Me neither.”

“Are you sure you don’t want a transfer? I think I could help you get something worked—“

“Hi Michael,” Tilly said so sudden and loud that Michael and Jim jumped.

Jim looked over at Michael. “Back in the old blue and silver, huh? Very nice. It suits you,” Jim commented, like Michael wasn’t a mutineer or that he’d noticed just how well the uniform suited her. Tilly was kind of impressed by how completely neutral, but complimentary he’d made it sound. Also, she had to agree, the uniform did suit her. Michael looked more comfortable in it by at least a factor of ten and she wasn’t as subdued and sullen now. It was nice. Just… nice. That was definitely all it was.

“Thanks,” Michael replied looking a tiny bit self-conscious like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. She was probably expecting a crack about how it wasn’t as good as the blue and gold she’d worn before her mutiny or that her badge was missing. 

Tilly knew Jim wouldn’t do that.

“Of course,” Jim replied. “Seriously, though Tilly, consider my offer? I’m really worried about you.”

“I can’t do my work anywhere else, Jim, you know that.”

“I know, I know. You’ve only been talking about that one scientist the whole time I’ve known you.”

“His name is Lieutenant Paul—”

“Stamets, yeah, I remember.”

“You could just say his name, then. You’re so annoying sometimes. I hope you know that.”

“Aw, but if I’m not annoying then I wouldn’t get to see your nose scrunch up like it’s doing now,” Jim teased.

Tilly clapped a hand over her nose. Jim laughed. “Shut up, Jim,” she said, her voice a little muffled.

“What are you grinning about?” Tilly said taking her hand away from her face and looking at Michael. Calling Michael’s expression a grin was overstating things a bit. It was, however, about as close to a grin as it seemed her face ever got. 

Michael’s face went blank. “Nothing. Clearly.”

Jim laughed even harder and then Tilly couldn’t help herself. She joined in on the laughter too.

“Michael Burnham and Cadet Tilly, report to Engineering,” Stamets said over the intercom. They must have gotten another mission that required Black Alert. She and Michael were both on call today.

“Well,” Jim said between chuckles, “I guess I better let you two ladies go. Try not to get into trouble, especially you, Tilly.”

Tilly stuck her tongue out at him. “Like I’m the troublemaker when you’re around.”

“Look, we both know who’s the troublemaking brains in this friendship and it’s not me.”

“Uh huh, I’ll talk to you later, Jim. Have fun running supplies.”

“I’ll try not to.” He winked at Michael. “Bye.”

“Bye,” Tilly said and Michael echoed before the connection closed.

As they walked to Engineering, Michael said, “Your friend seems nice, Tilly.” Michael almost sounded suspicious. 

“He is. Between the two of us, we both agree I’m the mean one.”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “Someday, I’ll tell you that story,” Tilly promised. “Maybe over lunch, for maximum effect.”


	4. Choose Your Pain & Lethe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starts before Choose Your Pain. Ends After Lethe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, replicator tech is... inconsistent. However, the lobby idea is from a scene in Data's Day from TNG where Worf is picking out a wedding present for Keiko and Miles. Apparently, even then there's some specialization of replicators. Also, even with Lorca's...uh... soft spot for Michael, I think her privileges onboard would be very limited until she's a specialist.

Tilly’s PADD chirped at her with a new notification. She frowned as she read it.

 

 

Message From Ensign Kirk, James T.

To Cadet Tilly, Sylvia

I’ve been brushing up on my kadis-kot game. Wanna play via subspace?

 

Tilly sighed. “What’s wrong Tilly?” Michael asked, looking up from her own PADD at the noise.

“Oh, nothing, Jim’s trying to get me to play kadis-kot with him again. Somebody on the Farragut must be bolstering his confidence,” Tilly replied.

“Is he that bad or are you that good?” Michael asked, looking back at whatever was on the display in front of her.

“Mostly, I’m just that good, not to brag or anything. It’s just last time he said he was never playing against me again. He’s better at three-dimensional chess, as far as abstract strategy games go.”

“Really?” Michael said, looking up from her PADD again.

“Oh, yeah, he can beat me about eighty-five percent of the time and I’m not shabby at it either.”

“Huh, I haven’t played chess in a long time, it’d be good to play again,” Michael said, considering something.

“You should ask him to play against you,” Tilly said.

“Oh, I don’t think so. I don’t know him very well, Tilly, and I don’t have a ton of subspace messaging privileges.”

Tilly considered this. “Well, then, I’ll take him up on kadis-kot and counter-challenge him in chess. You can decide the moves and I’ll transmit them for you. Easy peasy.”

“You’d do that?”

“Yeah, sure, why not? It’s just board games. It’s not like we’re sending secret codes to other Starfleet ships or anything.”

“Well, all right. Thank you.”

 

 

Message From Cadet Tilly, Sylvia

To Ensign Kirk, James T.

You’re on. Wanna get beaten in 3D chess too?

 

 

 

Message From Ensign Kirk, James T.

To Cadet Tilly, Sylvia

Feeling confident today? Sure, I’ll beat you in chess any day. Since I’m feeling nice, you can go first and I know you’ll want green in kadis-kot.

 

“Alright Michael, you and Jim are playing chess. You have the first move,” Tilly said, pulling up a digital kadis-kot board and studying it. Which opening gambit should she go with? She’d have to give Jim a run for his money.

“Um, Tilly do you have a 3D chess board?” Michael asked a few minutes later.

“No, I don’t. Why?”

“I’ll need to be able to see the board,” Michael explained.

“You don’t like the digital board?” Tilly asked, just to clarify.

“Not really, it’s too finicky. I hate having to spin it around all the time, just so I can see what’s going on.”

“That makes sense,” Tilly said. She didn’t mind the digital version, but she knew there were people who hated the one that came Starfleet standard issue in the computer system. The holographic one was an option, but the gestures were imprecise and often voice commands were required just to move the pieces. It wasn’t terribly popular either, as far as Tilly could tell.

“I guess it will have to do though,” Michael said, tapping at her PADD’s display.

“Actually, hold on a minute. I’ll be right back,” Tilly said, getting up and leaving the room.

She went to the standard synthesizer lobby. It was necessary for a lot of items since the ones in quarters could only provide things like clothes and linens. Food, toiletries, common crew cabin items, and industrial parts still required more specialized machines and even then, they still had a full galley on board and needed to get big parts from bases.

She found the correct microrecord from the common collection in the center of the room and stuck it into a slot and keyed in her access code, which was the part Michael couldn’t do for herself. Michael had access to essential items, but not everything the ship could actually make. Neither did Tilly, but recreational board games were well within her privileges. The selection of three-dimensional chessboards was right at the top of the list on the record. Now, she had to figure out which one Michael would like. Eventually, she selected a clear and frosted acrylic-look one with somewhat modern pieces. She made one little customization and waited as the machine made the set.

When she opened the door, there was only a plain box visible. She opened it to look. The board was in pieces which would snap or adhere together in the right places easily and there was the little bag that held all the playing pieces. They were all present and correct. She closed the box, put the microrecord back in the common collection, and hurried back to her quarters.

Michael looked up curiously when she entered.

“Here,” Tilly said holding out the box.

Michael took it and opened it. “You got me a chess set?”

“Yeah, of course, I did. You should be able to have some fun, you know. And you wanted a board. So, I’m giving you a board.” It really was that simple, so why was Michael looking at her like she’d never gotten a gift before? Did Vulcans ever exchange presents? What about Michael’s birth family?

“Thank you, Tilly, really. This means a lot to me.”

“I’m glad I could help,” Tilly replied.

Michael took the box over to the table and began assembling the board, the already applied special adhesive made a soft _thwap_ sound as it joined the pieces together when Michael aligned them. Tilly went back to her PADD, still planning her own moves. When Michael was finished, she started taking the pieces out and putting them in their starting positions with little clinking noises as they touched the board. Then, Tilly heard her gasp.

Tilly looked up to see that Michael was staring at the bottom of one of the pieces. “Oh, I put your initials on the bottom of all the pieces and your name is on the base of the board, too. Just in case. I thought you might want to play in person with someone outside these quarters. I didn’t want anything to get misplaced,” Tilly finished with a shrug.

“That’s,” Michael cleared her throat. “That’s really thoughtful of you Tilly.”

“Well, I have my moments.” Tilly grinned at Michael. Michael’s mouth twitched in a way that was possibly a grin for half a second. Tilly considered that a win.

 

* * *

Several weeks and a lot of games went by before Jim commed her.

“Okay, Tilly, what have you done?” Jim confronted her as soon as the transmission connected.

“What do you mean?” Tilly honestly had no idea. She’d done a lot the past few weeks. There was helping a long distance mind meld and aiding in the rescue of a diplomat/Michael’s father, helping Stamets with the Spore Drive, letting the tardigrade go, training with Michael, beating Jim at most of the games of kadis-kot they had played, watching Michael deny her crush on the new guy, et cetera. Jim only knew about one and a half of those and neither of them would make him mad at her.

“Tilly, you’ve beaten me in every game of chess we’ve played. I know you know that. So, what made that happen? You were always pretty good at it, but now you’re using totally different strategies.”

“I didn’t tell you?” Tilly said, genuinely bemused. She could have sworn she’d mentioned it.

“Tell me what?” Jim asked, still eyeing her suspiciously.

“You haven’t been playing against me. You’ve been playing Michael. She just… when this all started she didn’t have the Comms privileges to talk to you directly, so I’ve been acting as an intermediary. Which is a bit crazy, because she’s a specialist now and working on the bridge, so I’ll just ask her to challenge you directly from now on. I could have sworn I’d told you.”

“Uh, no. You definitely didn’t.” He sounded relieved now. “I was sort of worried you’d been taken over by something.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. A hostile alien maybe?” Jim shrugged.

“Okay, well, I’m not going to deny that could have happened. We are in Starfleet, but why would one want to play you in chess for weeks? That wouldn’t be my go-to strategy for an evil plan,” Tilly pointed out.

“When you say it that way it just sounds absurd. It just felt like I was playing against two different people and now I know I was. It’s all fine," he said, a little embarrassed.

“Not to rub salt in the wound, but what if I had been taken over by a hostile alien who was also intent on destroying you in chess? What was your plan? Just to ask me about it?”

“Well, that was step one." Jim counted the steps on his fingers as he spoke. "Step two was to report it to someone on my ship, so they could take it up with one of your superiors on your ship. Step three was to try to find a way to join the rescue effort. Steps four and five were to help assess the situation and get you back.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that one. You had a plan.”

“I usually do.”

“True.”

“Speaking of plans, I think I found an offer for you. It’s a Starfleet research lab in Iowa. Apparently, they’re doing something with astromycology. I thought it might interest you. They should be sending you a message soon. Just, think it over?” Jim asked.

Tilly hadn’t expected Jim to actually find something. With the lab being Starfleet and in Iowa, it was likely one or both of his parents were involved somehow. “I’ll look at it,” Tilly promised.

“Okay, that’s all I’m asking. Wait, did you say Michael’s a specialist?”

“Yeah, Captain Lorca gave her an official position,” Tilly confirmed.

“Wow, I bet he’s so popular right now for that one.”

Tilly was taken aback by this. “I thought you were okay wi—“

“Look, I have nothing against Michael. It’s just I’m sure Command cannot be thrilled she’s back on the bridge of a Starship and not in prison, that’s all. Quit looking at me like that. I mean it. Your roommate seems to be a good egg… Uh, despite her legal issues. So, anything else happen?”

Tilly thought for a second. “Ooh, let me show you Lana Ellison,” Tilly said grabbing a PADD and pulling up the right image from the crew manifest. She held the PADD so Jim could see it

He raised his eyebrows. “You going to go for her?” He asked with a note of appreciation.

“Sometime after she knows I exist, sure,” Tilly replied

“Yeah, I feel that pain.”

“Pyszczek?” Tilly asked. Jim had been pining over Pyszczek since before she had even left for Discovery. She thought it was pretty hopeless if Jim hadn’t gotten a positive sign by now, but she didn’t want to bring it up.

“Pyszczek," Jim confirmed. “Anything else?”

“Well, we got a new Security Chief, Lieutenant Tyler. I think Michael has a crush on him. He is pretty hot, so I can’t say I blame her.”

Jim looked a bit confused. “I honestly didn’t expect that. What happened to your old Security Chief?”

Tilly had to think fast. “She died, rather suddenly. Total freak accident.” Not exactly the truth, but also not entirely a lie. She was starting to get good at saying things that fit into that category.

“Okay,” Jim said slowly, not entirely believing her, but he didn’t argue. “So, do you think the new guy likes Michael?”

“Yeah, I think he might. She’s not admitting anything though.”

“Well, you know how to deal with that,” Jim said.

It was true. Jim could sometimes be a bit clueless if he didn’t express interest first. Either way, once things got started he definitely didn’t need any help. Michael on the other hand… This would probably require more work than a pep talk and pointing someone in the right direction. Michael had a tendency to be very reserved. Tilly had a feeling she was only just beginning to see through some of that as Michael relaxed a little.

She’d also been a bit more unburdened since the whole thing with Ambassador Sarek. She’d gotten something Tilly had always wanted, an admission on a parent’s part that they had royally screwed up, even if it wasn’t in so many words. Tilly was happy for her and maybe a little envious. She knew she was never getting anything like that from her own mother.

“I think this might be a little more difficult than that,” Tilly said. “Michael’s not like you at all.”

Jim narrowed his eyes, just a little, but his mouth was curved in a half-smile. “I have no idea if I’m being insulted or not. Michael was a pretty good officer, by all accounts. She seems really smart too. However, she’s also a convicted mutineer. So, what are you trying to say about me, Tilly?” He raised his eyebrows.

"You're absolutely going to end up commandeering a starship, somehow it'll be your own ship, on some foolhardy mission, obviously," Tilly teased then sighed. “I just mean you’re way more emotional, even if she’s smiling more now. She has Vulcan-esque levels of repression and very firm views on what’s appropriate and what’s not. She’ll take more convincing.”

“I have very firm views on what’s appropriate and what’s not.”

“Not like her, you don’t. She’s never even attended a crew party because she felt that any ‘fraternization’ with the crew would be inappropriate. She served for seven years on one ship, Jim. Zero parties.”

Jim stopped arguing. “You know, when you say things like that about her, it really makes me wonder what made her snap and mutiny. She seems like the last person who would, the way you talk about her.”

“I’ve been wondering that too,” Tilly admitted. “I remember a lot of speculation, but not anything concrete from the news coverage… I don’t really want to ask about it. It’s a pretty sensitive subject. She’s very headstrong, though, so that probably had something to do with it.”

“I can tell you she plays a downright evil game of chess. I’ve had to look up some of the strategies she’s used.” He shook his head. “She’s more vicious than you are in kadis-kot.”

Tilly laughed. “She’s been helping me train for a physical endurance commendation, so I think I may have seen some of that.”

“Early morning runs?” Jim asked.

Tilly nodded. “You? Really? I remember having to wake you up for some of the early training we did at the Academy and when we were in the same wilderness survival course…” He shuddered a little in exaggerated horror. “Although, I noticed you were a lot nicer to my dad when he’d wake us up when we went camping. You didn’t cuss him or anything.”

“Jim, your dad’s an admiral. I can’t say ‘shut the fuck up’ to an admiral and throw a pillow at him.”

Jim tilted his head and nodded once slowly. “Okay, you got me there. So this training, was this your idea?” Jim was skeptical and Tilly couldn’t blame him. She could be difficult.

“I agreed to it. She offered to mentor me and I took her up on it.”

Jim whistled. “She really must have some fortitude to be able to get you out of bed early in the morning. I don’t envy her that task, but I do admire her success.” Jim looked away and then back. “Hey, I’ve got to go finish a report. I only have a couple of hours until the deadline. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Well, all right. I’ve got some work here too.”

“Take care, Tilly.”

“You too, Jim. Bye.”

“Bye.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could teach a group the rules to 30+ board games off the top of my head (I just really like board games and teach the rules to pretty much every group I’ve ever played with, it gets ingrained), but kadis-kot and 3D chess are not among them, regular chess is. So there's the disclaimer for that.  
> The way they play long distance board games is sort of a nod to the way games were and still are played over letters or email more than our digital graphical internet/intranet versions today. Although, a digital rendering 3D chess board could be an absolute pain unless it's in a manipulatable hologram form and there’s something nice about the tactile nature of board games anyway.  
> Star Trek is a weird place where people act like sending a short RTF typed out letter takes 350TB and not 3KB, but you can send a gigantic and sophisticated holographic program without issue. Looking at you, Voyager.  
> 


	5. Magic to Make the Sanest Man Go Mad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after the events of Magic to Make the Sanest Man Go Mad

“Hi Jim,” Tilly said, her voice slurring more from tiredness than what she’d drunk, once the connection established. She didn’t know what was worse, the time loop, the last of the alcohol, or how bone tired she was feeling, but it’d been a while since she’d spoken to Jim and she missed him. She wasn’t going to make him leave her a message. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen her drunk, tired, or both before.

“Uh, hi? Are you drunk?” Jim asked. Tilly wondered what she looked like to cause that level of confusion and concern in him, but she didn’t want to call for a mirror. She wanted to sit down and change into her pajamas and not necessarily in that order.

“Not really anymore. I probably should be though. Very drunk. According to Stamets, I just spent the last twenty-eight hours at a party and a little while playing veterinarian to a gormagander. And I died. Like a lot. Every thirty minutes a lot. I only remember the last time where I didn’t die though,” Tilly said, giving in to sitting on her bed, instead of grabbing a set of clean comfortable clothes and making Jim wait out here while she changed.

Jim blanched. She probably shouldn’t have been so flippant about the whole dying thing, she realized too late. 

“Uh, Tilly that doesn’t make any sense,” he said, the end of the statement lilted up like a question.

“Sure it does. There was a temporal anomaly — a time loop and now I’m all loopy too,” she said a bit frustrated as she tried to let her hair down. Something was caught somewhere and had tangled horribly.

“Right… Do me a favor and drink some water and go to bed,” he said, cautiously.

“Sure, sure, I’ll do that,” she said. What did he think she was going to do? Go back out to party? She finally got her hair free. Some of the ache left her head and neck, unfortunately taking some of her hair with it.

“Tilly…”

“Gee Dad, when did you get so boring?” Tilly asked sweetly, kicking off her heeled shoes. She grimaced, her feet felt like she’d been standing on them for the last twenty-eight hours.

“I was born this boring,” Jim deadpanned.

“I’d believe that if—,” she started to retort.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. We Kirks have always been stalwart and completely boring,” he said a little too insistently.

“Right. I’ve met your family. I know your secrets.” She glanced up and noticed Jim wasn’t looking at her. She saw where his attention had gone, toward the door. What was Michael doing back here already?

“Don’t you think I’m boring, Michael?” Jim asked earnestly.

Michael was visibly taken aback. She stiffened and halted just before taking another step, her eyes wide as she looked at him. “Is—Is this a trick question?” Michael asked looking from Jim to Tilly.

Poor Michael just didn’t know what to make of Jim sometimes. Tilly took a tiny bit of pity on her, but not too much because it just wasn’t right that Michael was here, especially since she didn’t look nearly as tired and disheveled as Tilly was sure she herself looked. Not that Tilly was actually mad at her over it or anything, that’d be silly, but she also couldn’t imagine why Michael wasn’t with Tyler. She’d been the least subtle wing woman in the galaxy today, straight out of the Jim Kirk playbook, and Tyler had been totally into Michael. Stamets had even tried, apparently. What was it going to take?

“Why aren’t you with your boy, Michael?” Tilly asked. “I mean I could be making out with Gen Rhys or I don’t know maybe Lana Ellison, but I’m here talking to this doofus.”

“Hey,” Jim said, only a little affronted.

Tilly ignored him. “You could be macking on Tyler and actually remember it this time. It’s not right that we’re both talking to him.” She pointed at Jim.

“You are so mean to me, you know that, right?” Jim said. He looked at Michael. "Please tell me the 'remember it this time' thing is due to the alleged time loop and not anything else."

“It is,” Michael confirmed. “Tilly for the last time, he’s not my ‘boy’, as you so charmingly put it,” Michael added. She was flustered, Tilly noted.

“Yes, Jim, you’ve told me multiple times especially when I’ve been drinking and I’m tired. You know I love you and I know you’re not actually a doofus—”

“Love you too, even if you are mean to me,” Jim muttered.

“—And Michael, you’d be way more believable except we both sat and listened to Stamets. Well, until Dr. Culber made him go lay down. So, yeah, I was right,” Tilly said, feeling a bit smug. 

“Tilly, who’s this Gen Rhys? You showed me Lana Ellison and if you had a chance and didn’t take it, then—“

“No, she knows I exist now though, I learned she plays the viola. Gen Rhys is the one I actually turned down.”

“Ooh, show me both Rhys and Tyler. I need to know if either of you made the right call,” Jim said, moving to sit down next to Tilly on her bed.

“Leave Tyler and our nonexistent romantic relationship out of this,” Michael said grabbing a book and sitting on her bed. Her eyes weren’t even scanning the pages and she looked up when Jim spoke again.

“Oh come on, talk boys with me,” Jim said, resting his chin on his hand and batting his eyes at Michael. 

Michael was disbelief incarnate in response. Jim turned his pleading eyes on Tilly next.

She gave in. “Sorry Michael. Look at that face and I’ve already used up all my meanness for the day,” Tilly said, grabbing a PADD and pulling up the proper entries in the crew manifest. She displayed Rhys and Tyler’s pictures side by side. “Gen Rhys and Ash Tyler,” she said, holding it so Jim could see and pointing at the correct faces as she spoke.

“You’re both crazy. They’re both hot. Do they have awful personalities or something?” Jim asked.

“I’d never really talked to Gen before tonight and Lana was right there.” Tilly somewhat emphatically indicated a space immediately to her left.

“Ah, okay, what about Tyler?”

“Honestly less warped than he should be,” Tilly said and winced. That was a bit too honest and Michael had now given up the pretense of her book and only just stopped herself from gaping at Tilly.

“What?” Jim asked.

“POW. Klingon prison,” Tilly explained in a rush caused by her own embarrassment.

Confusion passed over Jim’s face before it turned to understanding. “Oh, he might need a therapist more than a girlfriend,” Jim said sympathetically. “But, I mean, whatever floats your boat, Michael.”

Michael didn’t reply.

“Wait, Tilly, this Tyler isn’t the same one that you were telling me about, right? The one who’s the new Security Chief?” Jim asked.

“Um,” Tilly said. She didn’t really want to deal with Jim’s reaction if she said ‘yes’, but it was for naught. He must have been able to read it in her face.

“Oh for the love of… You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, exasperated.

Tilly shook her head. “Please, Tills, consider that offer I got you. It’s just… something’s just not right here.” He stared at the ground and pressed the heel of his hand to his temple. “There are so many things you’ve told me that don’t normally happen,” he said and added, half to himself, “not on Starfleet ships, anyway. I’m terrified of what you aren’t telling me.”

“I told you I would think about it Jim,” Tilly said softly, “and I will. I promise.”

“All right. I’d better let you get some rest, shouldn’t I, you look dead on your feet. No offense,” he added just a little sheepishly.

“I feel dead on my feet,” Tilly said with a weak smile. She was feeling a small burst of energy from some hidden reserve, but it wasn’t going to last long.

“Goodnight Tilly and you too Michael. Try to stay safe and not mess with time or whatever happened.”

“Goodnight,” Tilly and Michael chorused back to him.

They saw his hand move to some console they couldn’t see as he closed the connection. Tilly got up, grabbed a change of clothes, and headed for the bathroom. When she was done Michael hadn’t moved, not even to pick her book back up.

“What offer was he talking about, Tilly?”

Tilly took a long drink from the water bottle on her desk before answering. “He, and I don’t know how he managed this, found me an offer at a research lab. It’d still be Starfleet, but it wouldn’t really be the stuff I do here,” Tilly explained, “it’s related work, I’d be working on adapting some of the tech we use here.” She shrugged and sat on her bed. “He’s just worried about me and he doesn’t know what to make of some of the things I’ve told him. That’s probably part of the problem, he’s lacking context.”

On her last word, Michael had stilled. Tilly even thought she’d stopped breathing for a second before she inhaled more deeply.

“Some of Captain Lorca’s methodology and decisions have been unorthodox,” Michael allowed, “including recruiting me.”

Oh hell, Michael thought she was part the reason Jim was so worried. She may have been, in the beginning, but Tilly was positive that was no longer the case. “I don’t think Jim holds anything against you personally, Michael. Sure, he knows what the regulations say about you being here and working on the ship, but… I know he doesn’t hold the whole war against you.”

Michael’s eyebrow shot up and her mouth opened to protest.

“Jim believes that if Klingons are spoiling for a fight, then you’re in a fight. Whether you like it or not. It’s all a matter of how you get out of the fight after that, whether by combat or diplomacy or a little of both. So, from that point of view, sure you took out T’Kuvma, but why was he even there in the first place? Because they wanted the Federation’s attention and a war,” Tilly explained.

“Is that how you think about it too?” Michael asked quietly, not looking at Tilly’s face anymore.

“More or less, maybe there was some way to stop the war before it started. I don’t know. Jim thinks it was pretty much inevitable and I think there was a chance and we just didn’t stumble across the right inflection point. A butterfly flaps its wings and all that jazz. That’s all really philosophical though. We’re in a war now. We just have to figure a way back out of it. Regardless of which one of us is right, we know it wasn’t your fault.”

Michael was staring at the floor when Tilly finished. “Is that really what you think, Tilly?” Michael asked, her voice low.

“Yeah, it really is.” Tilly saw a single drop of liquid splash on the floor by Michael’s feet. A tear, she realized. “Do—Do you want a hug?”

Michael didn’t respond, so Tilly walked over and sat beside her. She held a hand over the one of Michael’s that was closest to her, but not for long because Michael grabbed it and turned her torso to face Tilly. Tilly brought her free arm around and drew Michael into a hug. Tilly held Michael close, but Michael didn’t break down into loud sobs as Tilly had half expected. She just felt the occasional silent tear dampen her shoulder until Michael pulled back.

“I—I don’t deserve this,” Michael whispered, looking down at their still joined hands.

“Hey, yes you do, but this isn’t about what you deserve. You need a hug and in these quarters that means you get a hug.”

Michael smiled for a split second. “I mean for everything I did… I don’t deserve this, Tilly.”

“I don’t care about what you think you deserve or not. I want to be your friend, so you get my friendship. That’s how I work.”

“Because we’re roomies?” Michael asked still sounding a little watery.

“Because you’re Michael Burnham, a living breathing person, and you need a friend. Plus, we are stuck together in this room so… You can ask Jim just how well resisting my friendship goes for people.”

Michael let out a surprised rough chuckle. “He tried to fight back, did he?”

“Only a bit at the beginning. He was too serious. He thought he didn’t have time for friends. Now, look at us.” She yawned.

“Thank you, Tilly. Really.” Tilly yawned again as Michael spoke. “Please don’t fall asleep sitting on my bed.”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t end well. If you think I snore now, me being over here would be way worse.”

“I’d better get ready for bed, too.”

“‘Kay,” Tilly said, going back to her own bed and climbing in. She heard Michael get up and go into the bathroom.

She was asleep before Michael came back.


	6. Interlude: Language Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim Kirk was never one to shy away from an opportunity once he’d spotted it. He started small and slow. He wasn’t exactly sure that this would work, wasn’t confident that he’d get the response he was hoping for. After the conclusion of their next chess game, he sent what was like the closest phrase Vulcans had to ‘good game’ along with the challenge for the next game. He got the phrase back along with Michael’s acceptance of the challenge. He did this a couple more times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're so close to a lot of angst... Brace yourselves.

Jim Kirk was never one to shy away from an opportunity once he’d spotted it. He started small and slow. He wasn’t exactly sure that this would work, wasn’t confident that he’d get the response he was hoping for. After the conclusion of their next chess game, he sent what was like the closest phrase Vulcans had to ‘good game’ along with the challenge for the next game. He got the phrase back along with Michael’s acceptance of the challenge. He did this a couple more times.

He moved on then to the occasional friendly sentence, working diligently to make sure he had the syntax and conjugation as correct as he could make them and carefully choosing his words. The Vulcan language was very logically written and constructed, but compared to Federation Standard it felt archaic. It felt like that even though he was using the modern conversational form. 

Michael took far longer than he expected to ask what he was up to and that was when he moved to the next phase. 

_I started learning Vulcan at the Academy,_ he told her. _Before I graduated, I was in the running for going on a joint expedition. Hopefully, when the war’s over, I’ll be able to go. I haven’t had a lot of chances to practice._

He held his breath as he sent that along with his next move. He didn’t know what was going to happen next, but if his intuition was correct…

_Reading and writing Vulcan will no doubt be helpful on such an expedition. However, you should not overlook speaking and listening to spoken Vulcan, if you desire true comprehension of the language. I am available to assist you if you so desire. We can start tomorrow at 1700 hours if you are amenable,_ she wrote back. 

That had been easier than he thought it was going to be. He guessed that her current bridge duties were still drastically reduced from that of what was expected of an XO and she was bored. All the better for him, really. 

Almost as soon as he accepted, she sent along some of the resources she’d been given as a child on Vulcan to catch up with her peers. He’d never even seen them before. He wondered if the xenolinguistics professors at the Academy were even aware of them.

Over the weeks since he had accepted, they’d holo-commed a couple of times and worked on vocabulary, common phrases, syntax, verb conjugation. They’d continued writing to each other in Vulcan, along with their chess moves. Today, though was his favorite part, working on conversational skills. They did this while playing chess and only speaking in Vulcan. The conversations were mostly inane, about soup or laundry or where to find a conference room in a building. He didn’t really mind. Sure, he’d like to get to know Michael better, but that wasn’t really his goal here. It wasn’t her goal either.

 

* * *

 

Tilly was exhausted. Stamets had been almost pre-Tardigrade DNA today, except actually worse. He’d sniped at everyone, questioned everything, and was the worst version of himself. Tilly had even found one of her coworkers in tears. She hadn’t ended up crying herself, but she’d tripped all over her words and been threatened with a letter being written to her Academy advisor about her performance. 

As weird as Stamets euphoria had been immediately after the DNA transfer had been, she was really starting to miss it. She was going to have to do something, anything. The department couldn’t work like this and no one else seemed willing to speak up about it. Also, she’d never been anything other than a model student, her advisor would likely disregard a single letter from a man known to be hostile and cantankerous. She could afford the hit, in other words. 

She just wanted to collapse on her bed though and go to sleep or maybe take a long hot shower, provided she could stay awake that long. What she definitely wasn’t expecting was Michael sitting opposite a holographic Jim, playing slightly holographic chess and speaking a language she didn’t understand. She’d just left Engineering and no one had reported the Universal Translator being on the fritz. 

“Um, what is happening right now?” Tilly asked. 

“Hello, Tilly, bad shift?” Michael asked. 

Jim turned around. “Hi, Tilly. Wow, sit down before you fall down,” he said.

Even when he lacked some tact, Jim could give good advice. She sat on her bed. “Stamets was on the warpath, but that doesn’t explain what’s going on in here.” 

“Michael’s giving me lessons in the Vulcan language,” Jim explained.

Tilly was a bit confused and she noticed Michael looked at her for an answer, but she didn’t know what the question could be. “Are they still going forward with that expedition you were going on about?” Tilly asked. She saw Michael’s face calm into its more usual neutral expression. She was worried Jim was using language lessons as an excuse, Tilly realized. Tilly didn’t think Michael had to worry about Jim harboring any ulterior motives. Jim wasn’t a big gossip. He was absolutely hung up on Alex Pyszczek, so romantic interest was pretty much out. He’d also not shut up about that Vulcanian Expedition for a solid six weeks until it was shelved due to the war. 

“They may when the war’s over and I don’t want to lose my chance. You do remember that language skills were being considered as positive for this mission, right?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Tilly answered. “You don’t have to stop on my account. I’m going to try to go to bed.”

“It’s only 1800, was Lieutenant Stamets that bad?” Michael asked.

“I think I lost three days in one shift somehow. That’s what it feels like. We were all walking out of there like this. Except him, he’s still there.”

“Perhaps we should contact Dr. Culber?” Michael questioned.

“He knows. Ensign Carey went and spoke to him. There’s not a lot he can do,” Tilly said before she entered the head. She really didn’t want to think about today. There wasn’t anything Michael or Jim could do either. The worst part was Tilly suspected she was the only one beside Stamets who could guess at what was bothering him. She was going to have to find a way to talk to him about it without being busted down to a plebe again or moved to transporter room degaussing duty.

Jim and Michael were back to speaking Vulcan when she got back out and climbed into bed. She let the sounds of their voices speaking foreign syllables lull her to sleep.


	7. Si Vis Pacem, Para Bellum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place before and just slightly after Si Vis Pacem, Para Bellum.

“You’ll be careful, right?” Tilly asked.

“I’m always careful, Tilly,” Michael replied as she put on her boots. “Especially on away missions.”

“I don’t know. Shooting the Tardigrade on the Glenn wasn’t the most cautious move. It seemed a bit reckless,” Tilly said.

“I promise every risk I take is a considered risk and not just one I feel like taking. Also, there doesn’t seem to be any sentient life on Pahvo. We just have to adapt the transmitter and get out.” Michael stood up and took both of Tilly’s hands in hers. “I should be back in a couple of days,” she said.

“You’d better,” Tilly said hugging her friend. “You should probably go now.”

Michael nodded and walked to the door. “I”m coming back Tilly,” she said as the door closed behind her.

 

* * *

 

Message From Ensign Kirk, James T.

To Cadet Tilly, Sylvia

Haven’t heard from you in a while. Is everything okay or are you just busy? Also, Mom and Dad say you haven’t sent them a message in a month. They’d like to hear from you and are bugging me about it. Please end my suffering, I don’t know what to tell them.

P.S. I challenged Michael to a new chess game. I don’t think she’s seen it, could you ask? Thanks.

Jim read over the message again before he hit ‘send’. He didn’t really want to guilt Tilly or anything. It wasn’t her fault that she was often out of communication, at least some of the time. It was Michael not responding to his chess challenge that really pushed him over the edge. Michael was almost always prompt, now that they were communicating directly, whether it was with chess or checking in on his language progress. The only exceptions seemed to be when Tilly implied but didn’t outright say, that the ship had been in danger. That made him worried. He could tell something was bothering his parents too and when that happened, it was pretty bad. They were career Starfleet people since before they even got married, let alone had him and his older brother. They were used to some upsets. They also had the security clearance to know way more than he did about a lot of situations. Their last message where they’d asked after Tilly had read a bit like they wanted more than just a check-in with her. Something was wrong. He’d been suspecting that something was really wrong with that whole damn ship for a long time, but if his parents were also getting suspicious, then he knew it couldn’t just be in his head.

He heard a ‘ping’ noise from his console.

Automatic Error Daemon

Subject: Message Send Failure

Your message to Cadet Tilly, Sylvia could not be sent for UNKNOWN reasons.

Please check the parameters of your message and try again.

Well, that wasn’t ominous at all. He looked at the message he’d sent and everything seemed to be in order there.

“Computer, run a diagnostic on the computer console in this room.”

“Working… The console is functioning within normal parameters.”

Okay, so that wasn’t it. “Computer, what is the status of ship communications? Authorization Kirk 5473-Epsilon.”

“Authorization accepted. Working… All communications systems are functioning within normal parameters.”

So, it also wasn’t the ship. Maybe the Klingons had messed up the relays or they were just down? He didn’t have that kind of authorization to check. He knew some people in Communications who might tell him, including his roommate, but… there was always the chance that Discovery just wasn’t accepting all communications and maybe they were only taking priority messages. Tilly seemed to deal enough with classified information, even as a cadet in a specialized field, that it was possible.

He’d heard rumors about a ship that kept appearing and disappearing, sometimes behind enemy lines and sometimes in the heat of a battle to help out its fellow Federation ships. He hadn’t seen anything like that himself, but the Farragut wasn’t exactly suited for the front lines either, so maybe that was to be expected. Still rooming with someone in Communications had its benefits. He got to hear a lot of the more interesting bits of subspace traffic, which is how he heard about the ghost ship in the first place. There had been that whole thing about Corvan II that no one could easily explain, let alone the survivors. He tried to remember what Tilly had said she’d been working on, he didn’t think it was anything as big as transporting a ship, but… Hadn’t that Stamets guy been working on some sort of new long-range transporter technology? Had he figured out how to do that with a whole ship? That didn’t seem very likely to Jim.

Plus, how would something like that be kept under wraps? It wasn’t like any of Stamets research had been classified, at least before the war. There had been a couple of big conferences and multiple papers published, Tilly had read everything and even attended one of the conferences. Maybe astromycology just wasn’t that interesting to people. Tilly was forever talking about how small the field was, especially where it interfaced with theoretical engineering. He hadn’t even known there was such a thing as an interdisciplinary approach with regards to astromycology and engineering before meeting Tilly. It was also possible that Stamets’ research was thought to be the product of a certain type of scientist, the kind that usually ended up living on an otherwise uninhabited planet or moon by themselves or with a small team to conduct their experiments. A memory surfaced.

“Oh hell, they’re going ahead with that project? I know they were kicking it around, last I heard they thought the guy was cuckoo.” That was what Dad had said at his graduation when Tilly talked about her posting. Long-range transporting an entire ship seemed pretty ‘cuckoo’ to Jim. If something like that were true, it would explain a lot of things.

The frustrating thing was, Jim wouldn’t be able to ask. If it were classified, anyone who told him anything would run the risk of a court-martial. He wasn’t going to put anyone through that just to satisfy his curiosity. Additionally, that was way better than what he thought Tilly may have gotten roped into, in a way. Sure, he wasn’t thrilled if Discovery was the ship that was coming to the rescue all the time, that sort of thing was incredibly dangerous… but so were experimental methods of transportation. However, experiments just kind of came with being on a science vessel or even in a planetary lab. It was routine danger for Starfleet officers. It was expected. Starfleet always carried risks and this shouldn’t really be anything new for him or Tilly. They had walked into this vocation with as much understanding as was possible for people who were in their late teens and had been around Starfleet for most of their lives, which on balance probably was still less than anyone should have even while still being more than most.

He checked the time. He needed to get ready. He’d finally managed to land a date with Alex Pyszczek. He wanted to make a good impression.


	8. Into the Forest I Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after Into the Forest I Go.

“You can do this Tilly,” Michael said.

“You saw me on the bridge and I saw your face, you thought I was going to get us blown up and Captain Lorca had to prompt me the whole time,” Tilly insisted. She’d definitely seen the nerves in Michael’s face and posture.

“You just need some more preparation, that’s all. Also, you didn’t get us blown up. And remember, your counterpart, while different, has to be a little like you. After all, not every aspect of a person is learned. There’s always a genetic element to consider.”

“There’s a really subtle insult in there somewhere.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know, but I don’t think I’m anything like her.”

“You don’t have a choice, Tilly. You have to do this.”

 

* * *

 

Jim was elated. The date was going great. Everything was working out just as he had planned. Even better than he had planned, actually. They’d gone back to Alex’s single cabin for a bit of a nightcap and were now sprawled across the bed. After months of what amounted to courting, he hadn’t anticipated ending up like this so soon. He chased Alex’s mouth as they drew away, grinning down at him.

“Eager?” They asked.

He ran his hands down their sides, before urging them closer. “You bet I am.”

Alex dropped their weight more firmly on him and kissed him again.

“Ensign Kirk, please report to Engineering. On the double,” said a voice over the intercom.

They broke apart. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He whispered as Alex rolled to the side. He got up and started to fix his clothes. There was nothing like Chief Engineer Vahtola for souring a mood. “I’d better get going,” he said regret staining his tone as he looked at Alex. “Can I see you later?”

“Definitely,” they said, kissing him lightly before Jim headed out. At the first comm panel, he signaled that he was going to be in Engineering shortly. Hopefully, this wouldn’t take so long, but his hopes were quickly dashed.

When he arrived at Engineering, Vahtola and her assistant were frowning at consoles and barking orders as engineers tried to contain whatever was happening. He’d scarcely made it two meters inside before the explosions started, first in a nacelle and at consoles in Engineering.

He rushed over to where Ziccardi was working to see a readout and saw to his horror that they were suffering multiple failures in multiple systems, but he couldn’t make out what the cause could be from the information that was on the screen. He tried to get a better handle on the situation, but then he was being pulled backward by Ziccardi and just in time too because the console went up in a shower of sparks and super-heated plasma.

From there, things just kept getting worse. More panels had blown out, plasma conduits had failed, metal had sheared like it was paper all around Engineering and up into the starboard nacelle. They frantically started to work on venting the plasma from the port nacelle and locking down the warp core in case it decided to breach while everything else was going on.

It was difficult to try to predict what was going to go next when they weren’t even sure why this was happening in the first place. Even after his near-triple shift, they were still trying to figure it out. The closest they had gotten was that the ship may have flown through some phenomena that made the warp field destabilize and set off a chain reaction. Eventually, he’d been told to report back after getting some sleep and something to eat by the Chief.

He trudged in a daze to his quarters, took the fastest shower ever, and fell asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.


	9. Despite Yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after Despite Yourself.

“Michael?”

“Yes, Tilly?”

“What’s everyone back home going to think? Since we disappeared I mean. Do you think they’ll think we’re dead?”

“We’ll do our best to make it back Tilly, I promise.”

“That’s a ‘yes, they’ll think we’re very dead’ isn’t it?”

Michael hadn’t answered and now Michael was gone. Both of them were having to pretend to be someone they weren’t. Both of them false captains. Tilly had dreamed of captaincy for years and had long discussions about what it’d be like—the missions they’d go on, the things they’d see—with Jim multiple times. Neither of them had dreamed about anything like this.

As she sat awkwardly in the center seat, allaying suspicions once again and praying that the next words out of her mouth wouldn’t make the other ship blow them away, she’d give anything to just be in their home universe and talking to Jim again with Michael greeting Jim in Vulcan when she came back from her shift.

* * *

“Hey... Hey Jim. Wake up.”

Jim snapped awake. “What’s going on?” He said, only slightly groggy. He hoped that things hadn’t gotten worse in Engineering while he’d been asleep. “How long have I been out?”

“Only a few hours I think. You weren’t here when I left for my shift. The Klingon flagship has been destroyed. It’s all over subspace.” His roommate, Ensign Mark Fields, worked in communications. He’d be one of the first on the ship to know, even though the news itself was a little sluggish getting to them.

“Wow, really?” Jim sat up.

“Yeah, see for yourself.” Mark handed him a PADD. Jim took it and started scrolling through.

“I gotta go, I’m only on lunch break. I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah. Thanks for the update.”

“No problem.” He left Jim alone.

The news was well over a day old by now. The Discovery, Tilly’s ship, had done it. The flagship of the Klingon Empire was gone. Jim wondered what that meant, would they divide back up into singular houses without a clear leader or continue to work together? Would they become even more hellbent on destroying the Federation? Jim didn’t know which option would be worse. He hoped that maybe this would make them more likely to come to the negotiation table, but his doubted that outcome. He scrolled on.

Discovery had rescued the missing Admiral Cornwell by sending a team over before destroying the ship in combat. That was good news, too. A spokesperson from Starfleet Medical said that she was expected to recover from her injuries. That was unusual for someone who had been captured by Klingons, but not unwelcome. There’d been some unspecified casualties, but there weren’t any further details about them. Either it was all minor or the families hadn’t been contacted yet. It was standard procedure. Jim checked to see if anything else was new and could catch his interest, but there was nothing.

He laid the PADD face down on his chest and tilted his head to look at the stars outside the window. He should try to go back to sleep. Despite his lingering exhaustion, there was a bright irrational bubble of pride now swelling up inside of him.

He knew Tilly, being a cadet, likely didn’t have that much to do with Discovery’s victory. Oh, he knew the basics, she worked in an engineering lab with Stamets on his research that she’d been obsessed with since before he’d met her. It all had something to do with transporters. It was not the kind of thing anyone worried about too much in combat as far as he could tell. Which wasn’t saying much, space mushrooms made Tilly excited and an excited Tilly talked fast. Jim could keep up with her if he knew the topic and he’d sincerely tried to learn, but the whole thing was beyond him.

So, she was probably, hopefully, tucked up safe in her quarters during the whole situation. He was happy for her though. She’d been there. It was more than almost anyone else could say.

A chirp from the PADD startled him. He must have drifted off. He flipped it up to silence the notice and his eyes caught on “BREAKING:”. His stomach dropped and then fell through the floor when he opened the new dispatch. Discovery had been ambushed by Klingons and destroyed. No survivors. He didn’t want to think it was true, but it was all there on the PADD, bright and perfectly legible. He felt sick, but he couldn’t move too immobilized by shock and grief. He’d lost people, a lot of people. He’d seen people die in front of him. He’d gotten the news that people he knew had passed away. It never made it any easier. It never made any sense, regardless of the reason.

The Klingons had clearly retaliated. Why Discovery hadn’t booked it out of there at maximum warp away from the front lines, he couldn’t understand. He felt an incredible rage at Discovery’s now deceased captain. What had he been playing at keeping the ship there? He’d never liked the guy. Everything Tilly had ever said about him cemented that...

Oh, Tilly. He wasn’t crying, not yet. He was still too angry at the stupidity of it all. Captain Lorca had one hell of a track record now. Two ships and both of them gone with all hands lost. That may have been the only good thing out of this terrible mess, he’d never be put in charge of anything again. If only this universal decision hadn’t come far too late for Tilly and everyone else on the ship.


	10. The Wolf Inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during The Wolf Inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Events of Tarsus are depicted here as they were in Drastic Measures by Dayton Ward, which I think is actually a lot less intense than other tellings. Blame him, not me.

Tilly spent every spare second she could in Sickbay or Engineering. Without Dr. Culber... she swallowed convulsively against the grief that welled up inside her every time she thought about Stamets holding his husband’s lifeless body against him, rocking mindlessly and saying things that did not make sense. Then again, nothing made sense anymore. Not Dr. Culber’s death, not Stamets’ condition, and these readings didn’t make any sense either. She was now the most qualified person on board to try to figure out Stamets’ ailment which seemed tightly connected with the mycelium. What a joke that was... She was no more qualified to play doctor than she was captain. The one basic field medic certification Jim had convinced her to do with him was not enough to even begin to deal with any of this. Still, she had to do something.

 

* * *

 

Losing Tilly had been a shock, but he didn’t realize how much of one it would be.

Somehow, he managed to drift back to sleep. He dreamt about Tarsus. Tilly was there with Michael, taking the place of people he’d seen killed on Kodos’ orders. Phaser cannons at high output carved lines through the crowd. He watched in horror as Tilly and Michael were vaporized. Klingons moved through the remaining mass of people, heading straight for him, where he was hiding. On the screen, where Kodos’ had been, was a man he knew to be Captain Lorca, laughing cruelly at the slaughter. The beam from a Federation phaser hit him straight in the chest, with a grinning Klingon warrior behind the weapon. He fell to the ground and woke with a start.

He was breathing fast, sweating, and disoriented. He threw the blanket off of him and sat up, folding into a ball near his pillows. He was still alone, Fields must be on shift. He put his head in his hands and tried to control his breathing. Tarsus was years ago. It couldn’t hurt him anymore... Not that his mind or his body really seemed to understand the fact. The nightmare did hurt. Tilly, Michael, Klingons, and Captain Lorca hadn’t been at Tarsus… An inconvenient memory reared its head. Lorca had been at Tarsus, but he’d been part of the rescue efforts, having already been at a Starfleet outpost on the planet before the crisis. His mother had worked with some of the people under Lorca’s command a few times. He’d even met the man once. It was hard for him to reconcile what he knew of the then Lieutenant Commander Lorca with the Captain Lorca from Discovery.

None of this actually mattered anymore, they were all just as dead as the victims of Tarsus now. Shit, even the commander he had met at the hospital was a victim of the Klingons. He’d actually met Philippa Georgiou, he’d talked to her after he’d worked to find a picture of Kodos. He’d forgotten who it had been until just now. She’d been nice, possibly too nice to a kid who admitted to illegally hacking a computer system. He’d gotten the feeling that he amused and impressed her by being precocious. He didn’t want to think about this anymore. He didn’t need any extra grief. With Discovery’s destruction, he had more than he ever needed.

He laid there, letting the sorrow wash over him in waves until he had to get ready, unable to doze let alone go back to sleep.

He reported, as usual, to his shift in Engineering and everything seemed horribly, unnaturally, fine. The situation with the repairs had improved, but when force-field contained plasma streamed in front of him as they bled it out of the system and into space, he was right back to Tarsus. He stumbled back against the bulkhead behind him as Engineering disappeared and he was hiding in the shadowy concourse. Just like he had that night after the phaser cannons and the subsequent phaser rifle blasts that nearly hit him and did graze Tommy. Oh god, where was Tommy? He felt around in the dark but didn’t feel him anywhere, only the wall.

“Kirk? Ensign Kirk, can you hear me?” A voice said. “You’re on the Farragut, Ensign. You’re safe. Everything’s fine. You’re safe. Okay? I want you to breathe for me, through your nose. Inhale…”

Involuntarily, he did so, following instructions the firm, calm voice gave him. After a few repetitions, he started to come back to the present. In the here and now, Chief Engineer Vahtola was talking him through it.

“Ensign Kirk, where are you right now?”

He took another deep breath and said: “I’m in Main Engineering, ma’am, on the USS Farragut.”

“Good. Come on, let’s sit in my office for a second,” she said, putting a hand on his shoulder and leading him away. She held on until he was sitting in the chair in front of her desk. She walked over to the food slot and got him a glass of water, which she set on the desk before she sat down.

“Now, you don’t have to tell me what that was, but it looked to me like one humdinger of a panic attack.”

“I’m sorry Chief, it’s been a long time since I’ve had one like that.”

“You don’t need to apologize. You’ve had these before? Have you had treatment?” She asked, nodding.

“Yeah. The, uh, event happened when I was thirteen. My parents made sure I got treatment. It was the plasma stream. It brought back memories.”

“You had a flashback.”

He nodded. “I’ve had some of those, too, in my time. It happens, Kirk. We’ll try to keep you away from plasma streams from now on,” she said.

Jim blinked. “That’s the thing, ma’am, I’ve looked at plasma streams dozens of times since then and it hasn’t bothered me… until now.”

She nodded and pursed her lips. “We’re all a bit shaken up after that whole thing with the Klingon flagship and… how much have you slept since your last shift?”

“About five hours, ma’am.”

“And you’re running on a considerable sleep debt. We all are, but McCall told me you had a friend on Discovery. So, you’re a little more shaken up than most, I’d wager.”

He looked down at the desk. “This is all above my grade though, I’m an engineer. I’ve never pretended to be a therapist,” she said and sighed.

“I don—”

“Yeah, you do Kirk. Don’t fight me on this, you won’t win. But as you remember, we’re having all sorts of failures and there’s no one qualified on board for me to send you to. And no way for you to contact someone who is qualified off the ship. We also need all the hands working on this we can get. So I want you to tell me straight, do you think you can finish out your shift?”

Jim thought for a second. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Lucky for you, the regs don’t say anything about a full quarantine for PTSD you got before the service and have had treatment for. Or maybe not lucky for you. Hell if I know. I’ll let you back out there if you promise once your shift is over and the communications array is back up you’ll talk to someone about this. You don’t want things getting worse.”

“Yes, ma’am. I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the unintentional hiatus. If there is one thing I am ridiculously talented at, it's managing to injure myself via circumstances that would barely inconvenience someone else.


	11. Vaulting Ambition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during Vaulting Ambition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got so stuck with the beginning of Jim’s POV, it was ridiculous. What I had before I worked it out was so clunky. Hopefully I fixed it.

“Commander Saru, do you really think we switched places with the Discovery of this universe?”

“Since they do not seem to be present and do not seem to have been destroyed here… That seems as reasonable a hypothesis as any.”

“Oh wow, I don’t know which one’s worse. Everyone thinking I’m dead or her taking over my life.”

“Cadet Tilly, Klingons were converging on our position before we jumped. It’s entirely possible that the crew of the ISS Discovery were disoriented and subsequently destroyed.”

“Is that supposed to be comforting?”

“Not really. No.”

 

* * *

 

Personal Log Ensign Kirk, James T.

Tilly,

(sigh)

I keep thinking of things I want to tell you about or ask you about and this is as close as I’m going to get to be able to do that, isn’t it? I miss you so much and I keep thinking I have to take my next move in chess or kadis-kot and... well, I don’t have to worry about that anymore. Not that I ever worried exactly. I just feel so lonely. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt like this Tilly.

Mark, my roommate has been helping me occasionally with my Vulcan language studies. He says I speak with a ‘very posh’ Shikahrian accent and hearing me switch between that and my normal accent is hilarious to him. I guess I’m just an Iowa farm boy going around sounding like an aristocratic Vulcan with a limited grasp of the language. It is kind of funny. (laugh) I’ve been mimicking Michael’s accent so I guess she wasn’t taken in by peasant stock. (laugh) Who’d have guessed?

You probably would have. Hell, you might have known about her foster family.

(pause)

I applied for a graduate program. I got in and I know you would tease me about taking the route to the captain’s chair that came with required reading. As it is, I’m now on track to have an M.A. in Security Studies in about a year. Sounds grand, right? I’m starting to wonder why I’m bothering with it though.My counselor says it’s good I have something else to focus on and I can see his point, but I don’t even know if I’m going to live long enough to make lieutenant. Here I am trying to plan for being a captain.

Right, yeah, the war.

It’s getting really bleak. What... happened... to you was only the beginning. The Klingon houses are all acting independently and it’s hell to defend against as far as I can tell. Ships are getting ambushed all the time. I look at the casualty lists and they’re so damn long, Tils. It’s... it’s... I don’t even think I know the right word. Awful. Horrible. Beyond belief. Disturbing. Soul rending.

(recording paused)

(recording resumed)

I’ve got to go soon, to yo—the memorial, we’re picking up supplies and sticking close to the Sol system. That’s the only reason I’ll be able to get there. Mom promised me a recording just In case.

One last thing, for now, I should tell you about. I’m seeing Alex. Not as often as I’d like, I’m pulling a lot of double shifts and our schedules don’t line up very often. I don’t know how long I can sustain a relationship when I’m exhausted and Alex is exhausted and we never see each other, but we’re giving it a go. I’m not sure if we’d still be dating without the war. I think Alex might have transferred by now otherwise, they’re more suited for a science ship.

(pause)

My counselor was right, this did help some. I’ll do this again sometime.

I miss you so much. Wherever you are, tell Michael I miss her too.

End Personal Log Recording

 

Despite everything, Jim managed to get to the memorial service for Discovery’s crew. He met Sam and Aurelan at the doors. They looked around the auditorium through the crowd of people.

“There’s Mom,” Sam pointed out. “Looks like she’s sitting with Tilly’s family. I don’t see a seat down there, though.”

“There’s three in a row,” Aurelan said, taking Sam’s hand and leading the way to an elegant woman dressed sitting with three empty seats to her right, “let’s see if they’re taken.”

The woman stuck out a bit from the multi-species crowd. It seemed to Jim that she was wearing Vulcan-style clothing, which was a bit strange. She was clearly Human. He didn’t think a Vulcan would allow themselves to look as morose as this woman.

“Excuse me, are these seats taken?” Aurelan asked.

“Oh, no, go ahead,” the woman said, looking up from her PADD.

Sam sat down first and Aurelan sat down next to him, which left Jim sitting next to the woman. She gave him a tight quick smile as he did so. Jim looked down at the raised dais. His father was set to be one of the people giving a speech, he knew.

“Excuse my impertinence, but if you don’t mind me asking, who did you lose?” The woman asked, quietly. She glanced at him, but kept a lot of her attention on the PADD she was holding. From what little he could see, it looked like she was making sure she’d be given a recording of the memorial. She was also here by herself. Jim at least had family with him to help. Had this woman lost everything to this war?

“A couple of friends. One I’ve known for years and her roommate,” Jim answered, matching the woman’s volume.

“I’m sorry,” the woman said, looking up at him. “I grieve with thee.” It was odd phrasing, especially from a Human. It sounded a lot closer to something a Vulcan might say.

“May I ask you the same question?”

“My daughter,” the woman said, the words catching in her throat. “If only my son could be here. The starship he’s stationed on is too far away for him to even make the attempt.”

Jim’s heart broke a little more for her. This woman was here, apparently alone and she’d had two children in Starfleet. There was no guarantee that this would be the last time she’d be attending a service like this. He took a chance. “Tushah nash-veh k'odu. I’m so sorry for your loss,” he said.

“Th'i-oxalra. Thank you. Tushah nash-veh k'du,” the woman said with some surprise. “You know Vulcan?”

“Only a little bit. My friend’s roommate was fluent in it, I’d practice with her sometimes,” he answered sadly. The woman looked at him curiously, but she didn’t have the chance to say anything else. The various speakers were taking their places.

When a recovered Admiral Cornwell got up to speak, Aurelan reached out and took his hand. He looked at her and she squeezed his hand gently and gave a watery smile for a moment, before turning her attention back to the stage. Jim faced forward again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tushah nash-veh k'odu/Tushah nash-veh k'du - I grieve with thee.  
> Th'i-oxalra - Thank you.
> 
> All Vulcan is pulled from [here](https://www.starbase-10.de/vld/).
> 
> Additionally, an M.A. in Security Studies is a real degree offered by the Naval Postgraduate School operated by the U.S. Navy.


	12. What's Past Is Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during What's Past Is Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a direct correlation between the elapsed time from when I drafted these chapters and how much revision they need before they're posted. Ugh.

“Aye, Captain,” Tilly chorused with everyone else. Saru’s words echoed through her head as she returned to her station. She looked at the results of the simulations again, but she just couldn’t focus. She needed to focus. Figuring out the issue with the shields was essential, but they also needed a way back home. She was not going to spend the rest of her life being Captain Killy.

Even that awful thought wasn’t enough to jostle her mind into cooperating so she could work on this problem. Without really thinking about it, she left Engineering and headed for the Mess Hall. She waited restlessly for the food slot to dispense her coffee.

Saru wouldn’t accept a no-win scenario and if there was anything she had learned from being friends with Jim Kirk it was that no-win scenarios were complete bullshit. They were illusory as they could often be defeated with stubbornness or creativity. Sometimes, the worst times, they could be conquered with a radical redefinition of the win condition. She hoped this wasn’t one of those times as she grabbed her mug.

She didn’t sit at a table, there wasn’t really time for that. She needed to get back as soon as she could manage. She stared out the viewport, the stars streaming past as Discovery stayed at warp, following Michael’s recommendation to the letter.

They were going to weaponize their spore supply to save the network. It was going to cause an explosion that neither ship would survive, but the network would survive. Even if they did survive the explosion by some miracle, there were still shockwaves, which Tilly wasn’t entirely sure they could outrun, even at warp and they wouldn’t be able to jump away… Except maybe they could. Maybe they could do both…The paradigm shifted and Tilly barely remembered to put her mug down before she rushed to Engineering.

Once there, she ran the simulations again, with some modifications, and smiled against her nerves.

“Captain was right,” Tilly said to Stamets. She hoped she was as well.

 

* * *

 

Jim was so tired, but the only end that was in sight wasn’t one he liked. He was aching both from a long shift and from unexpected close combat with a Klingon warrior. Jim never wanted to see any form of Klingon weapon ever again, but if they didn’t take down the remaining warriors soon, he was going to become very familiar with a bat’leth. Klingons didn’t like firing from a distance, they longed to be close enough to see the life drain from their enemies’ eyes. At least, that was what one of the warriors was taunting, as far as the Universal Translator could determine.

The Klingons had beamed over boarding parties as soon as the shields failed and naturally one of the targets was Engineering. They would eventually destroy the ship if they weren’t defeated. First, though, they wanted trophies.

Jim, along with all of his fellow engineers, were not eager to be trophies. He and Ziccardi were huddled behind a console, guarding the access door to the Jefferies’ Tube. Vahtola and a couple of others were up there, trying to restore power so they could get the shields and helm control back. Vahtola hadn’t wanted to leave them, but she was the best engineer onboard and a pragmatist. She knew she was their best shot at getting out of here with survivors.

Jim leaned around the console and spotted one of the Klingons. He fired. Direct hit. He pulled himself back and nodded at Ziccardi. Only two warriors left standing. A disruptor beam crackled against the bulkhead behind them, just above where their heads. Sparks flew from a damaged panel. It wouldn’t be long now until the Klingons tried to rush them. Ziccardi moved and fired in the direction the beam had come from.

“Got ‘im,” he breathed.

Only one left, Jim thought.

The lone Klingon roared and both Jim and Ziccardi heard the booted feet clatter across the deck, straight for them.

Well, someone’s not happy, Jim thought. Both he and Ziccardi rose and fired their phasers, felling the Klingon. The warrior’s raised bat’leth hit the console as he fell. Before Jim could process how close he’d come to being decapitated, the warp core hummed into life as helm controls engaged. Hopefully, that meant shields were back as well.

He and Ziccardi went opposite directions and did a circuit around the room, checking to make sure there were no more unwelcome guests. They called out the all-clear to the engineers in the Jefferies’ Tube.

“Well done,” Vahtola said once she’d climbed out of the tube. A couple of the other crew members were quick to follow her out. “Bridge reports that all the intruders have been dispatched. Security will be coming down to deal with any who’re still kicking in a couple minutes. We need to check for wounded. I mean, aside from you Kirk.

“What?” Jim interjected.

Vahtola continued, pulling out one of Engineering’s medkits and handing Jim a tricorder. “Medical’s sending down a team, but they’re a bit jammed.”

“What?” Jim repeated, moving to a crewman who was slumped against a grating. He closed his eyes and sighed as the tricorder registered no life signs. He moved to the next engineer.

“Someone got you on the shoulder and you didn’t notice?” Vahtola asked, leaning down to examine another crewmate’s wounds. “I’ve got a live one here. Where the hell’s that medical team? Travers, get back up there and help McCall get transporters back.”

“Oh,” Jim said, as the pain registered and he reached up to touch his shoulder.

Vahtola looked over to him. “Don’t touch it, it doesn’t look that bad. You probably won’t even end up with an ache to remember it by. Check over there." Jim looked where she was pointing. "I think I saw someone over behind that console.”

“Yes ma’am,” Jim said, moving to the console.

This was the first time they’d had a boarding party, but somehow Jim knew it wouldn’t be the last.

 

* * *

 

Personal Log: Ensign Kirk, James T.

Tilly,

We were boarded again today. It’s almost like the Klingons have figured out how to break our shields with the fewest shots possible and they still have their damn cloaking tech. We never know when one is just going to appear and take us down. I go to sleep most nights afraid I’m going to wake up to a Klingon standing over my bunk. I know that sounds ridiculous, but all things considered… I’ve looked up from a display to find Klingon warriors in Engineering multiple times, so… It’s not that ridiculous.

I never really thought that this war would take you, but I’m glad you aren’t here for this, Tils. I don’t know how much more I can take. There’s no way out of it… Well, none I’m willing to take. I’ll just have to get through, one way or another.

End Personal Log Recording

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m probably going to combine the next two episodes into one chapter, which means that this is the last angst-filled chapter for this season! Yay!


	13. The War Within, The War Without

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during The War Within, The War Without.

Personal Log: Cadet Tilly, Sylvia

We’re back. We missed nine months and everything’s shit now, but we’re here. Admiral Cornwell and Ambassador Sarek were really suspicious of us, which makes sense. Any ship that did what Discovery did would be suspect, but Discovery being destroyed right when we were working on the cloak breaking algorithm and reappearing months later looks really bad. Whatever they did to make sure we were ourselves upset Michael. I heard her talking to Sarek about it, but he shut her down really quickly and now she’s ticked off, almost resigned to being ticked off actually. She doesn’t want to talk about it and I have to get back to work.

At least I get to help terraform a moon.

End Personal Log Recording

 

* * *

 

“So let me get this straight… She’s the Terran Emperor,” Tilly started.

“Yes,” Michael confirmed.

“Who you brought back.”

“Yes.”

“And now she’s in charge.”

“Sort of.”

“Sort of, right. So, we terraformed a moon, which is the coolest part of this. Let’s be clear about that.”

“Right.”

“We terraformed a moon with spores so we can jump _inside a planet_.”

“Doing well so far.”

“So that we can get the Federation an accurate map of Qo’nos. And we’re going to do that by throwing a drone in a volcano.”

“A dormant series of volcanos, yes.”

“To do that, we have to get dressed up to look like weapons dealers who got lost in a leather bar—”

“A leather bar?”

“Um…Never mind. And hang out with people who are quite likely involved with the Orion Syndicate and, as if that weren’t bad enough, the Terran Emperor. She looks at me like she wants to eat me.”

“I think that’s how she looks at Saru, actually. I don’t know what she wants to do with you.

“Ergh.”

“That just about covers it.”

“And this was your plan?”

“Not exactly.”

“You’re the one that pitched it?”

“The basic premise, yes.”

“Michael, you are brilliant and lovely and I don’t want you to take this the wrong way.”

“Okay…”

“This is a stupid plan and I hate every part of it, except the moon.”

“I understand, but we’ve got to get going.”

 

* * *

 

“Big news, people,” Vahtola said. “We’ve been recalled to Earth. It’s going to be brutal. Get some rest and hope we get there in time. Goodnight Alpha Shift. Good morning Beta Shift.”

Jim walked out of Engineering with everyone else around him talking about how bad things must be for them to be recalled to Earth. Jim knew it was bad. He could feel it. They only had one goal now, protect the Earth. If he was being generous, then surviving themselves would be in there somewhere.

He collapsed onto his bunk. If the Klingons attacked Earth… The war was basically over. That’s where the bulk of Starfleet operations were based. The other Federation members would be left to fend for themselves and most of them relied on Starfleet for defense. They were going to be sitting ducks. He’d heard the Klingons had even taken Starbase 1. That had been nigh unthinkable just a few months ago and it should have been well defended. It didn’t seem to matter what defenses they had any more.

He wasn’t even sure how the Farragut was going to survive another Klingon attack, they badly needed repairs. Repairs that they couldn’t even do themselves. They would have to go into space dock to fix some of this stuff. It didn’t look like that was going to happen.

As he laid down and closed his eyes, he comforted himself with the thought that there would still be Federation ships out there somewhere, undamaged by relentless attacks. Just before he fell asleep, he realized he was glad that the Enterprise would be still around, even if it ended up the only tangible ship in a ghost fleet soon enough.


	14. Will You Take My Hand?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during and after Will You Take My Hand?.  
> The end of this is from More Fun To Talk. Just in case you want a refresher.

He awoke to the sound of the boatswain’s whistle over the intercom.

“Captain Garrovick to all hands. It is my pleasure to report to you that the Federation and the Klingons have reached a ceasefire. We will proceed to Earth for repairs. Garrovick out.”

As soon as the channel closed, Jim could hear cheers erupt from five sides of his cabin. He laid back in his bed. They’d done it. Somehow, they’d done it. He smiled as he stared up at the ceiling, not minding for once the thumps from the deck above even as it sounded like a herd of elephants was stampeding. He grabbed a PADD to see if the news had any more details yet.

Seconds later it tumbled out of his hands to the floor. He couldn’t have possibly read what he had just read, could he? He scrambled to pick up the PADD, missing the mark a few times.

Not only was the war over, but Discovery had been found? Found with all but their captain, a security officer, and one of their doctors? They’d been instrumental in arranging the ceasefire? None of that made any sense, but he was too overjoyed to care. He started laughing until the tears came and he could barely breathe. He clutched the PADD to his chest. He couldn’t believe it. It was damn near miraculous and things like this didn’t just happen. Did they? Well, it was Starfleet. He was still chuckling as even as it really clicked that three people had in fact been lost. Tilly might have known them. It was a real shame about the two officers, but Starfleet and the News Service could spin it any way they wanted, as far as he was concerned Captain Lorca could go rot.

Tilly was alive though. Somehow she hadn’t actually died. He wanted to send her a message or maybe a full-blown transmission. He wanted to talk to her again. He wanted to make sure this was real. Unfortunately, it seemed that the entire ship had thought along the same lines and comms were completely jammed. He’d have to wait, but he didn’t have to wait alone. He went out to the corridor to join the crowd in their impromptu celebrations.

 

* * *

 

“What are you doing Tilly?” Michael asked.

“I just dropped something, it went under the bed. Aha, gotcha,” she said before sliding back out and getting up. She brushed off the front of her undershirt and brandished the box she’d gone after.

“What is it?”

“I’d almost forgotten about it. Jim gave it to me as a joke.”

“Okay, that doesn’t tell me a lot about what’s inside the box,” Michael said.

Tilly opened the presentation box and handed it to Michael. “It’s a medal? ‘Battle of the Voles, 2256’? That doesn’t sound like a real thing,” Michael said.

“Oh, it was. There were definitely voles and I definitely had to help subdue them. They were these horrible alien creatures and they got out of the zoology lab on campus and reproduced like crazy. They kept chewing on all the electrical conduits, wreaked absolute havoc on my work and everyone else’s in that building. That,” Tilly pointed at the medal, “is to commemorate my part in the containment efforts.”

“Why would Jim give this to you though?”

“I may have been jealous that he’d been awarded a Palm Leaf for the Axanar Peace Mission while I was stuck back on Earth fighting voles. So, he gave me a medal.”

“You two are strange friends.”

“I mean, I didn’t react well, but he had good intentions. I wonder if he’ll be at the ceremony on Earth?”

“What ceremony?”

“Oh, we’re apparently getting Medals of Valor. That’s what Commander Saru said Admiral Cornwell said.”

“Oh,” Michael said.

“Oh, shit, Michael, I’m sorry. You haven’t heard anything yet?”

“No.”

“It’d be great if mutinies canceled each other out. I mean, you led the way to prevent genocide.”

Michael laughed darkly, “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

 

* * *

 

Jim spotted his family quickly in the crowd outside of the shuttle hangar. It helped that Sam was waving like a madman. Jim grinned and headed over to them.

“Look at him, he got a— What was it again?” Sam asked as soon as Jim was in earshot.

“A citation for conspicuous gallantry, most recently,” Aurelan said, with a roll of her eyes.

“Right that and I don’t know what all else and he still walks slower than cold molasses,” Sam said.

“I missed you, too, Sam,” Jim said giving his brother a hug.

“That was one hell of a close call,” Sam admitted, pulling away.

“It really was,” Jim replied accepting hugs from Mom, Dad, and finally Aurelan.

“Yeah, I don’t ever want to have to take those measures again, frankly,” Dad said, “Getting all the planetary defenses going is harder than it sounds.”

“Tell me about it. We’d just gotten a lot of our equipment below ground when the ceasefire was called. We haven’t carted it all back up. I’m still not sure how we got it down there so quickly with without transporters,” Mom remarked.

“So how does it feel to come home a hero, huh?” Dad nudged him.

“I’m not exactly a hero,” Jim said.

“So you didn’t defend your ship multiple times from Klingons?” Dad asked, putting a hand on Jim’s shoulder as they started to leave for home.

“Well, yeah, but so did a lot of other people,” Jim pointed out.

“When did you get modest?” Sam asked.

“When you figured out you couldn’t compete,” Jim quipped.

“Haha, you’re so funny. Anyway, Aurelan and I have something to tell you.”

“Oh?” Jim said, looking back at them.

“You’re going to be an uncle,” Aurelan exclaimed.

Jim was very surprised by this, probably more surprised than he should have been. “Oh, that’s great! That’s really fantastic. Congratulations.” He did not mention anything about their timing. Seriously, when a war was going sour, really sour, was when you decided to reproduce? Geez.

“Thanks,” Aurelan said smiling widely.

“So are you thinking about names?” Jim asked, turning back around.

“We’re not calling the baby James if that’s what you’re asking,” Sam said.

“It’s a good name, though.”

“Yeah, damn near everyone in the family has it.”

“Said, ‘George Samuel Kirk the…’ What number are you again? I lost count,” Jim said.

“At least I didn’t end up with ‘Tiberius’, unlike some people.”

“Oh hush, the two of you. Your names are fine and whatever Sam and Aurelan pick will be too. Honestly, can’t I just have one day where you two actually get along and don’t bicker?” Mom wondered.

“Not since Jim learned to talk, Winona,” Dad said, wrapping an arm around her and kissing her cheek. “And remember the last time they got along? A sleigh ended up on the roof of the barn.”

 

* * *

 

There were a few advantages to being George Kirk’s son and being able to get a seat for your friend’s medal ceremony was one of them. His ship had been recalled to Earth and was now docked for repairs since the war was over. Even if that hadn’t been the case, he would have tried to at least watch this ceremony. There had been an incomprehensible amount of loss during the war, but Jim could remember the day that Discovery had been declared destroyed with all hands lost so clearly. It was the first time one of his close friends had been taken by the war. Getting the news that there had been a mistake, that Discovery wasn’t destroyed and only their captain had been killed in the line of duty during the incident had been as surreal as the war suddenly being over days after they had been found.

This whole thing was surreal, actually. Commander Michael Burnham was up on the dais giving a speech about Starfleet principles which didn’t help matters. He’d asked his dad about that and he’d only said that she’d been pardoned and reinstated and that was the end of it. According to the reports he’d seen, she and the rest of Discovery had been instrumental in ending the war but never said how. Jim suspected he’d never know.

Commander Burnham was done talking now and Jim rose to clap with everyone else. Admiral Cornwell closed out the ceremony and people started drifting off in the direction of the reception and the promises of a banquet lunch.

“Go talk to your friend, Son.” His dad said, clapping him on the shoulder and walking away with the crowd toward the exit.

“Ensign Tilly,” Jim said, having finally gotten through the crowd, it had taken long enough that the group of Discovery officers had just been released from the photographers. Tilly whipped around.

“Jim!” She extended her arms out. Jim hugged her, lifting her briefly off her feet just because he could. “I didn’t know you’d be here. It’s so great to see you. It’s been forever.” She drew out the last word as they pulled out of the hug.

It almost was, Jim thought.

“I wouldn’t have missed it,” Jim said.

“Tilly? We’re heading to the reception now.” Commander Michael Burnham had walked over to them. Jim noticed she was a lot prettier and a little shorter than she’d looked when he’d seen her over the holo-comms and from his seat in the audience. She seemed friendlier now too, but it was probably better not to get any ideas about that. Was she even still Tilly’s roommate? Jim shook himself out of it, only then noticing Tilly’s narrowed eyes.

“Michael, you remember my friend Jim,” Tilly said.

“Yes, indeed.” She said. A corner of her mouth twitched up for a second.

“Commander Burnham, it’s nice to finally meet you in person.”

“You too, Ensign Kirk,” Michael replied. She was smiling and Jim fell a little in love despite himself. “Tilly sa—“

“There’s food at these things, right? I was way too nervous and skipped breakfast this morning.” Tilly said quickly, starting to walk away.

“Tilly…” Michael admonished, walking after Tilly. Jim started moving too, keeping pace a step behind Michael.

“I know. I know. Don’t skip meals. Get the proper ratio of macronutrients with a variety of micronutrients.” Tilly said. This was clearly a discussion they’d had before.

“And yet,” Michael said. Jim couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped. Tilly stopped until she was alongside Jim with Michael now carrying on in front of them.

“As for you, don’t even start,” Tilly said.

“I’d never comment on your eating habits.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Who me?”

“Yes, you. Don’t get any ideas.”

“Why my dear Ensign Tilly, I would never.”

“Seriously. Don’t.”

“Wait, have you?”

“What? No. Definitely not. That wasn’t what I was trying to say at all.”

“Right. That was a totally believable declaration on your part.”

“Stop it. You’re the unbelievable one, trying to change the subject like that.”

“Do I even want to know what you two are bickering about back there?” Michael said. She’d stopped at the doorway to the reception hall. Jim finally noticed they’d fallen further behind during their discussion.

“You really don’t,” Tilly said, glaring at him as they caught up to Michael and finally entered the reception.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My great grandfather and his three brothers put the family sleigh on the roof of their barn once. This would have been around 1904, so I guess they were bored. I don’t even think it was winter.
> 
> So, that’s season one! A little interlude ~~which I'm still working on _eek_~~ and then it’s on to season 2. Thanks to everyone who’s stuck around so far and especially those who’ve left kudos and comments!


	15. Part 2: Paris - Leaving Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some loose threads must be tied off before shore leave can begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it’s been a while. Sorry about that. I thought I could get away with a short interlude, but it turned into over 18k somehow. So, yeah, enjoy some Michael POV in addition to Jim and Tilly for awhile.

Michael stared at her bed. Strewn across it was everything she had on the ship. It wasn’t much. A couple of books, a chess set, Philippa’s badge was all she had to show for herself. Then there were her shoes and clothes. She went ahead and put her athletic wear, pajamas, and her one set of civilian clothes from their mission to Qo’nos in her bag, along with anything else she wasn’t going to wear off the ship. All but the civvies had the Starfleet insignia on them and it was wishful thinking to believe that she’d be allowed to keep any of it. Technically, it was all Starfleet material and not the sort of thing a mutineer should have. The same was true of her uniform as a Specialist. She looked at her jumpsuit. The insignia and yellow coloring a mockery of all that she’d worked for.

She should wear it. It was the only item of clothing she was guaranteed to be allowed to keep. At one time she thought it was all she deserved.

She wasn’t going to wear it. She shoved it in the duffle and put one of her proper uniforms on, putting the spares and her robe in as well. If Starfleet wanted their property back then they could come and get it, as far as she was concerned. Pride and years of learning about the importance of projecting the correct image made her wear it. Whatever happened once she disembarked, let them remember that they’d pinned this war on her and she’d ended it. No one could accuse her of dereliction of duty this time.

She hoisted the bag over her shoulder and walked out of her shared quarters… straight into a security escort.

Discovery was a small crew as Starfleet ships went. She recognized all of the security officers waiting with phasers at their hips.

“Specialist Michael Burnham, I am here to take you into custody until such a time that I can remand you to…”

There was more—she was sure there was more—but she couldn’t hear it over the buzzing in her ears. She was going into a holding cell. They were going to hold her until the debriefings were over and sweep her away into prison. That must have been what the guard was saying. It must have. One of the guards took her bag and one other took her by the elbow. They led her to the transporter room.

She hadn’t been expecting this.

She barely felt the transporter beam as they dematerialized and rematerialized in a blank looking building. She was cold and hot at the same time. Hot where the shame of embarrassment welled up within her. Cold where years of mental discipline kicked in. One foot in front of another, over and over again. They led her through sterile-looking halls until they ushered her into a room with a table bolted to the floor and a rickety-looking chair. The hand on her elbow guided her to the chair and she sat when the hand pressed on her shoulder. One of the security guards stayed in the room, watching her stare at the table. Her bag was nowhere to be seen.

She waited.

It was almost like meditation. Her mind was blank and she drifted. It was as though her time on Discovery hadn’t happened, the only reminder it had was the blue uniform she wore and the guard watching over her. The table had a scratch on its surface, she noticed eventually. She ran her thumb along it and caught the groove of it with the edge of a fingernail. For a time, it was the most interesting thing in the room, which wasn’t saying much.

An indeterminable amount of time later, the door opened. She didn’t look up.

“Come along, Michael,” a familiar voice said.

A burst of hope bloomed in her chest and her head snapped up.

“Sarek?” She was out of the chair before she’d finished speaking his name. He had her bag in his hand.

“You have been… remanded to my custody.” His mouth pulled down slightly at the corners. He wasn’t pleased with this development. “You are to accompany me to the Embassy.” He swept out of the room and Michael hurried to match his pace. They didn’t speak until they were out of the building and one their way to the Embassy.

“Amanda will be pleased to see you.”

“She’s here? On Earth?”

“She said that a team of wild horses could not have prevented her journey.” He had the manner of someone who had found yet another trilobite fossil on a rock in a riverbed.

Sarek collected idioms and once Michael had figured that out, she could almost see the way he filed them away for later study. This was in contrast to his sons. Sybok delighted in them and used them wildly, inappropriately. Spock pretended not to understand to the point where Michael had gotten in the habit of over-explaining them just to waste his time if he did understand. When he was younger, she figured out the ones he understood by how quickly he would attempt to walk away from her.

“I see. I will be glad to see her again.”

Sarek nodded.

The Vulcan Embassy was barely visible from the street. Hedges surrounded it and hid the security fence from view, in addition to most of the building. What was visible over the fence were tall trees in bright ruddy colors and shedding their foliage in preparation for the winter months. Sarek nodded to a guard and pressed his hand to a discreet identification panel next to the gate. Beyond the gate was a small manicured courtyard. The building itself was constructed in pale desaturated stone with a slate grey roof. It seemed smaller than its sprawling counterpart in California, but Michael couldn’t see the sides of the building to get a proper sense of the scale from this vantage point.

Someone who looked more like an aide than a guard (though he probably served both functions in a pinch) met them at the front door and ushered them inside.

“I will take Ms. Burnham’s bag to her room, Ambassador.”

Sarek looked at her and Michael nodded her consent. It was safe enough. No one here was going to confiscate it from her. Michael followed Sarek through the foyer to a passageway that led to the back of the building. This building had a less utilitarian look than the one in California as well. It was much older as well if Michael had to hazard a guess. She was no expert on architecture. The building was likely several hundred years old or at least built to look that way. Vulcan architecture had variations, but it paled in comparison to the sheer variety of what Humans had accomplished on Earth. This building was entirely Human, down even to the furniture, except in the decorations scattered across the tables and the walls. Those were clearly brought from Vulcan. She even spotted an oddly placed asenoi in a tiny alcove, a form deprived of its function.

Finally, they came to a door that opened onto a surprisingly warm solarium that gave a wide view of the back garden. Michael’s attention was caught, however, by the room’s sole occupant. Amanda rose and crossed the room, grasping Michael by the elbows before pulling her into an embrace just shy of crushing. Amanda had adapted to Vulcan in a multitude of ways, including denser bones and stronger musculature needed in the higher gravity. Michael had once been the same, but years spent in Earth-equivalent gravity had sapped some of that from her, despite an effort at upkeep.

“You’re here... You’re really here.”

Michael could only nod in response. Tears stung her eyes and she couldn’t quite get enough breath to speak with any real volume.

“Indeed she is, my wife,” Sarek said.

He must have done something to make Amanda’s grip slacken because Amanda was looking at him with a frown as she pulled back before she turned back to Michael.

“I thought we’d lost you. I attended the memorial and everything. I even sent a recording along to Spock...” She trailed off, biting her lip. Her eyes slid over to Sarek.

What was that about, Michael wondered.

“Is Spock okay?” Michael asked.

“Last we heard.”

“We have not been informed otherwise.”

When Sarek and Amanda ended up speaking over each other it was not particularly comforting.

“The Enterprise was kept away from the war. Communication with the ship was severely limited, by technology and necessity,” Sarek said.

Amanda looked at the floor. Michael’s heart ached. She was glad her brother had been kept away, though there were plenty of hazards on exploratory missions that the Enterprise was primarily devoted to an active war zone tended to be the more dangerous place. However, this whole thing must have been hard on Amanda —and Sarek, too, though he wouldn’t dare show it.

With her stepson banished, her biological son effectively—albeit temporarily—banished, and her mutineer foster daughter apparently dead as a casualty for months... it wasn’t any surprise that Amanda had forgotten her physical strength.

Michael let herself be led to a sun-dappled sofa and sat with Amanda while Sarek sat in a chair opposite. Amanda still hadn’t let go of her.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t meet you straight off the ship. No one was sure when you were disembarking and there was a communications blackout. Then, no one was sure where you were...”

“It was not so much that they were unsure of her location, as that they were unsure of her status. There has been talk of a pardon, Michael, but nothing is official as of yet. Starfleet defaulted to regulations since you are still a convicted mutineer.”

“Sarek, you mean you brought her here without... How was the pardon not the first thing out of your mouth?”

“It is only tentative...”

“The President is only waiting on the official debrief. It’s a formality at best.”

“Nevertheless, it is unofficial. Nothing is set in stone, as is evidenced by the fact that she was in a holding room until I retrieved her, under guard.”

Amanda went still beside her. She was angry. Angry at Sarek and, quite possibly, the entirety of Starfleet Command. Michael looked out to the garden. The best thing to do when Amanda was angry at Sarek was to politely ignore and stay out of it. Michael had learned that early on. Sybok was a great teacher by example; he showed exactly what not to do.

Sarek had mentioned the possibility of a pardon. Admiral Cornwell hadn’t mentioned anything about a pardon. Although, considering their last interaction involving a near mutiny, but this time with the backing of the crew, this was not surprising. The last thing Admiral Cornwell was likely to be feeling toward her was generosity. 

“When will the debriefings begin?” Michael asked. It broke the tense silence.

“O eight hundred tomorrow morning. We will both be going.”

She would be ready.

It was days of meetings. There were group interviews and individual interviews with various interested parties. Black badges swarmed the halls and clustered in the corners of rooms, but didn’t speak to anyone outside their group, save a handful of admirals. The whole process of her court-martial had taken less time and fewer people. She’d had a hearing, which had been the longest part since her petition to waive her right to one had been denied. They knew she would be pleading guilty, but the machinery of public relations would not lose a spectacle. As if a war wasn’t spectacle enough.

Eventually, everything was declared settled and Sarek had told her the good news.

She could view her trials and imprisonments with an amount of detachment now, with her badge positioned on her chest again. As soon as no one was looking, she took it off and read her name on the back, running her finger over the letters and letting a nail catch on them.She put it back on. The weight of it was reassuring even if she wasn’t how she was going to navigate the rest of her career. She was in uncharted territory and, officially speaking, the entire time between that rash moment in Georgiou’s ready room and her commission being reinstated was a clerical error.

At least she knew her first assignment: prepare a speech. She drafted it in her head on her way back to the embassy.


	16. Reception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So what did happen at that reception?

Separately, Ensigns James Tiberius Kirk and Sylvia Tilly were serious, studious, extremely bright, loyal, affable, and generally a credit to the uniform. Together, they were still all those things, but they were also exuberant, jovial, and frankly a little ridiculous. Not that Michael found it in herself to view them with derision, but rather she found she delighted in their absurdity.

Having only dealt with Jim and Tilly together before with the distance of subspace relays—even then she mostly saw Jim while tutoring him—she was only beginning to realize this. For all that Stamets had accused her of lurking around his labs, she didn’t try to eavesdrop on her coworkers’ private conversations. However, if it meant that she would be more prepared for situations like this, she would have to consider revising this stance.

The crew had to suffer through several minutes of a photography session. Michael knew why of course. The Federation and Starfleet had been battered in actuality and also in public opinion. Her commission and the crew’s commendations were just as much about political machinations and capital as they were about giving them well deserved laurels.

She was the ward of an ambassador. She knew how this worked.

No sooner than they had been released from the photographer than Amanda was there. She was returning to Vulcan, having only stayed long enough “to get her daughter settled.” She was working with groups to deal with the sheer number of displaced people and orphans left in the wake of the war. It was necessary work, Michael knew, although she was glad that Sarek was staying out of it. A third considerably younger sibling wasn’t exactly high on Michael’s list of wants in life.

She was keeping tabs on Tilly from the corner of her eye even as she said goodbye to Amanda. Tilly’s own mother had been a no-show, despite being the only one of Tilly’s close relations to be on planet during the ceremony. In a hypothetical competition for best parent where the only contenders were Sarek and Tilly’s mother Siobhan, Michael had a sneaking suspicion that Sarek would actually win. Even if Michael’s brothers were brought in as judges.

Michael needn’t have worried, because someone came up and tapped Tilly on the shoulder. With a start, she realized it was Jim Kirk. He lifted Tilly off her feet when they hugged. That hadn’t been a component of any embrace Michael had been involved in since she was a small child… excepting the ones where someone was trying to kill her. Those hardly counted.

Amanda turned to see what she was looking at. “Someone you know?” She sounded like she was threading a tricky linguistic needle.

“Friends, I think. Well, one of them definitely.”

Amanda’s face brightened and Tilly and Jim’s chance to have an undisturbed reunion was only saved by a timely reminder from Sarek that the time they had before departure was extremely limited. Amanda had never gotten to meet her children’s friends, mostly because they hadn’t had any. The three of them had gotten along with each other best, which wasn’t saying much as they grew older.

“Maybe I’ll meet them when Discovery comes to Vulcan?” Amanda asked.

Michael demurred. Tilly for certain, but Jim would not be present.

As soon as her parents left, Michael went over to Jim and Tilly. The auditorium was nearly empty, with people heading to either the reception or out of the building. She noticed Keyla loitering by an exit. In a few gestures Michael managed to communicate that she would be at the reception with Tilly in a few minutes and Keyla conveyed that she’d make sure they had somewhere to sit.

It warmed Michael that the rapport she’d built with the bridge crew on the Shenzhou hadn’t been entirely obliterated.

“Tilly? We’re heading to the reception now.”

Tilly and Jim finally noticed her.

Michael wasn’t particularly vain, but she was used to attention. She used to catch her classmates staring at her all the time. That at least made sense, she was the only Human there. She was in some ways just as much of a curiosity as Amanda and Spock, and maybe even Sybok when he’d started his rebellion.She’d also been a curiosity to the crew on the Shenzhou for similar reasons. It was odd to see a Human so unemotional and she had been granted a commission through an unusual process. Being Starfleet’s first mutineer had gained her unwanted attention as well, in prison as well as on Discovery.

She wasn’t expecting Jim to look her up and down. He’d seen her before. Granted it was only over the holo-comms, but that was a good enough likeness. He was very quick about it, but not quick enough to avoid the notice of herself or Tilly, whose eyes narrowed.

“Michael, you remember my friend Jim,” Tilly said.

“Yes, indeed.” She suppressed a grin at the faint reddening of Jim’s ears. He rallied and introduced himself. Just when Michael was at the point in the conversational script where she was supposed to imply that Tilly, as the mutual friend, had talked about his positive traits, Tilly interrupted.

Tilly claimed that she was terrible at diplomacy and politics, but Michael was of the opinion that Tilly merely lacked practice. The way that her statement was designed to throw Michael on another topic entirely showed an affinity. Michael didn’t really get a chance to talk to Jim directly again until they were seated at the reception.

Keyla had followed through and there were three spots available at the table where the rest of the medal recipients were seated. Michael chose the lone chair next to Saru, with Tilly and Jim sitting across from them. Most of the formal Starfleet events Michael had attended had come with carefully assigned seating. Either this event had been deemed less formal or no one was terribly inclined to correct them.

The meal passed pleasantly enough. Jim demonstrated that he’d been practicing Vulkansu in her absence. That caught Saru’s attention. He had an aptitude for languages and saw the typical reliance on universal translators to be a double edged sword. On one hand, it was distressing that people did not go out of their way to learn languages. On the other, this allowed him to look incredibly impressive. He and Jim spoke about Kaminar and Kelpien culture. That was surprising. When Michael had tried to learn about his culture from him, it had been as pleasant as pulling teeth. But Saru appeared to be at ease discussing the topic with a near stranger in a tongue foreign to everyone at the table. How was Jim managing this?

“What is happening right now?” Stamets asked.

“Jim’s showing off.” Tilly shrugged.

Jim, for his part looked a little chagrined, until he switched languages and said something Michael didn’t understand, but sounded like French.

“Insufferable. You’re insufferable,” Tilly said, rolling her eyes. “You think it’s so funny that you speak French better than I do.”

“I grew up in Iowa, Tilly. Iowa. My grandparents grew up in Iowa. Hell, most of my great-great grandparents grew up in Iowa. You have a French grandmother and a mother fluent in French. Do you not appreciate the irony here?”

“I have yet to met a UT I can’t debug or mod to suit my purposes. It’s been sufficient.”

That set Saru off. Though Saru didn’t mention it, Michael knew that he had learned a ridiculous number of languages in order to try and secure a spot at Starfleet Academy, but he mostly defended the value of learning a language for the purposes of understanding a culture. The way a language was constructed was a key to how the people who spoke it conceptualized the world around them, Saru argued. It was exactly the argument she had used to learn Vulkansu as a child. Sarek hadn’t seen the necessity of her learning Vulkansu. Spock had given her his workbooks and helped her as much as he could, despite their father and his own difficulties with language.

Eventually, Stamets joined in on Tilly’s side, but Joann threw her support for Jim’s... or really it had become more Saru’s side now. Slowly, more people were drawn in and it was the most animated Michael had seen them all since Pahvo.

In the middle of it all, Jim looked at her, grinned and went back to finishing his meal. He looked content to let the discussion rage around him, without any further input from him. He was basking in the chaos he’d wrought, Michael realized.

Eventually, the conversation wound down and Jim asked, “So, what are you doing on your leave? Wait, you do get leave, don’t you?”

Tilly went immediately on the defensive. “I’m not going camping.” Her entire affect was flat.

“Oh, come on, that wouldn’t happen again, Tils.”

“Jim you took me to a place that advertised primitive camping and what happened? Your dad got held hostage and we ended up bivouacking in a civil war.”

“You have to admit, that’s primitive. Truth in advertising. You did a really amazing job building that communicator though.”

“Well, it beat the food prep you ended up doing.” Tilly’s nose wrinkled. Michael presumed Jim must have hunted and foraged so they could survive, not a pleasant process.

“Someone had to and you’re better at communicators, you technophile.” Jim kissed Tilly on the cheek.

“Well, that’s an interesting romantic getaway,” Stamets said.

Tilly glared, but mostly at Jim. He held his hands up in surrender. “It really wasn’t like that,” Jim explained. “It’s never been like that with us, actually. Though, at several points during that trip getting away was the goal.”

“Well, that’s an understatement,” Tilly muttered. “It’s not like they wanted us dead or anything.”

“Mostly they wanted us for ransom.”

“Except Jim’s the living embodiment of the kid from ‘The Ransom of Red Chief.’ Then they decided dead would be fine.”

“Oh come on, that’s not even… my dad is way better than the dad in that story and I didn’t enjoy captivity.”

Tilly smirked and opened her mouth to reply and a look of horror overtook his expression. “Don’t say it,” Jim warned, holding up a hand as though about to physically prevent her from speaking.

Tilly smiled sweetly at him. “Anyway, to answer your question, we do get leave and I was planning on showing Michael around. She’s never been to Paris before.”

                                                                                                    


	17. First Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first night of shore leave.

‘The Ransom of Red Chief’ by O. Henry turned out to be about a little boy who was so obnoxious that his captors paid the boy’s father to take him away. And the boy did enjoy his captivity, as Jim had mentioned, in comparison to living with his father. She closed out of the story and put down her PADD.

“I notice that Jim denied enjoying his captivity, but he did not deny any rowdy or annoying behaviors while in captivity.”

She and Tilly were waiting in Tilly’s temporary accommodations for Jim to arrive. Michael was not sure about the protocol of a commander “hanging out” with two ensigns, but as she was still rooming with one of those ensigns on the ship they are both assigned to, she was not sure it really mattered. At any rate, she couldn’t bring herself to care too much. There was no captain to object anyway and no regulations against it, so it was up to her discretion, and since this chair happened to be rather comfortable, she’d stay and ‘hang out’.

“What? Oh, Jim just can’t help mouthing off at someone whose authority he doesn’t respect.” Tilly was loitering near the door. Jim was supposed to be arriving soon.

“That seems potentially problematic for a career in Starfleet.”

“Nah, not really. If Jim doesn’t respect someone in Starfleet or the Federation, for that matter, they don’t deserve their job. I mean, those people were holding us hostage and threatening to kill us and the worst Jim did was mouth off and incapacitate them,” Tilly said, before answering door.

“Hey, turns out they placed me just down the hall,” Jim said as he walked in. “I brought wine.” He lifted up a bottle from the market bag over his shoulder before gently setting the bag on the counter in the kitchenette. “And if I’m right…” He opened a cabinet and one of the drawers. “Aha! Yep, there are glasses and a corkscrew. You both want some, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Tilly said and Michael did not correct Tilly answering for her. She could stand a glass of wine. “But you know we could each just take a bottle.” She walked over and leaned on the counter next to him.

“Lush,” he teased and she could see his smile as he opened the bottle and poured.

“You’re the one who filled a bag entirely with wine bottles.” Tilly pulled the bottles out and looked at the labels.

Jim waved his hand—the one holding the corkscrew with a cork still attached—dismissively. “That doesn’t mean we have to drink it all tonight. Anyway, we’re both ensigns now. Starfleet officers, who are drinking wine with a superior officer. We have to have a little class and decorum,” he said handing her two freshly poured glasses, before filling a third for himself.

Tilly took a sip and handed the other glass to Michael before she walked back over to the sofa to sit down. Jim followed with his own glass, setting the open bottle on the coffee table and sitting next to Tilly. “So, Michael, are you staying in Starfleet accommodations or going to the Vulcan Embassy?” Tilly asked. Next to her, Jim’s eyes went a bit wide and his eyebrows went up accordingly, but he didn’t comment.

“I’m staying here. Two floors up,” Michael answered. She’d been assigned the rooms next to Saru, it was far bigger than any quarters on Discovery and about twice the size of Tilly’s accommodations, though Tilly had managed the better view of the skyline, but so did everyone on this side of the building, except on the lowest floors.

“I’m surprised you’d want to stay here when you had the option of the Vulcan embassy. The public areas aren’t the best—very spartan—but from what I’ve seen, the private rooms are nice,” Jim said.

“Oh my god, Jim, what’d you do?” Tilly asked in a way that conveyed that she really meant, ‘who did you fornicate with who had access to the private rooms of a Vulcan embassy?’, which was a stupefying thing for Michael to contemplate. Jim smiled into his glass and took a drink before replying. Michael noticed Jim’s free hand had twitched, perhaps a nervous tic.

“I threw up on an ambassador’s shoes,” Jim said sheepishly. She realized almost instantly that there was a fair chance that the ambassador in this story was her father. Still, Sarek’s shoes being ruined was not even close to the worst case scenario.

“Shit. Jim,” Tilly said, covering her mouth with one hand.

“That’s what my dad said.”

“What? Why was your dad there?”

“I was four years old, sheesh. Give me some credit.” Across the room, and apparently unnoticed, Michael relaxed. Childhood antics she could handle. She listened as Jim continued: “Sam was in school. Mom was off-planet. Anyway, Dad took me with him. He had some lunch meeting with an ambassador and something we ate did not agree with me and as we were getting ready to leave… There I went. The guy was pretty... unaffected by it, said he had kids and it happens. He got cleaned up, Dad got me cleaned up, the Ambassador got me some clean clothes. Dad was more embarrassed than I was and well... the other guy was a Vulcan and an ambassador.” Jim shrugged.

“They hustled me into the private quarters. I remember I got really interested in this tapestry they had hanging up in one of the bedrooms. Michael, you might know it, actually. It was this pre-Surakian reform battle scene. I’m pretty sure it was a copy because it showed up in one of my textbooks at the Academy. It’s notable because it depicts these warriors who fought in pairs, kind of like really bloody doubles tennis,” Jim explained.She did know the tapestry. The handful of times she and Spock had accompanied Sarek and Amanda on brief trips to Earth, the room it was in had been assigned to Spock. He was… fond of it. She was also going to have to remember the Jim’s simile and use it on Spock at the next opportunity, whenever that arose.

“Huh,” Tilly said.

“There’s not a lot of information about them, at least not a lot that’s been translated out of ancient Golic, but there’s some evidence to suggest that they shared a mental bond that helped them communicate on the battlefield,” Jim finished, looking at her like he was hoping she’d jump in with more information. She didn’t have much to offer except the proper name of the bond he spoke of, which he likely already knew. She kept her face blank despite the ache at the thoughts of her brother the topic brought up. Spock had been utterly fascinated by the stories of t’hy’la, but he’d never shared what he’d read with her.

“So, Vulcans have fancy tapestries.”

“And ridiculously comfortable beds. We were there for a while because the Ambassador insisted a doctor come look at me, just in case. So, I took a nap and eventually we got home. And that’s how I learned that there’s an Andorian spice in some Vulcan food that I should avoid.”

“Speaking of you and physical ailments... You look like hell, Jim,” Tilly pointed out. Michael had to agree with her assessment. Since she’d last seen him over the holo-comm, he appeared to have lost roughly seven kilos and had a slight pallor in addition to dark smudges under his eyes.

“Ah, Tilly, you know exactly how to deal with my ego.”

“Bring it down to size, you mean. Seriously though, any coughing? Feel like you’re about to swoon if you have to stand for more than five minutes?”

“Honestly, pass out just once because you caught pneumonia during a wilderness survival course gone wrong and no one will let you forget it,” Jim complained facetiously.

“Lieutenant Finney had to catch you and I’ve never gone for a comm panel so fast—before or since.”

“I know, I know. I should have gone to Medical when when I first realized I was sick, exams be damned. But, no, I’m fine. I just have a massive sleep debt due to double shifts, Klingon boarding parties, and me trying to get a master’s degree in the middle of a war.”

Michael perked up at that. “What are you studying?”

“Security Studies with a focus in Strategic Studies. Are you familiar with it?”

“Not entirely,” Michael admitted. “But it sounds useful for someone who wants to be in command.”

“That’s the idea.”

“You would pick the way to captaincy that involved the most reading,” Tilly said.

Jim grinned. “I thought you’d say that.”

“So what about these boarding parties?” Tilly asked. Jim sighed and pulled his feet—when had he taken off his shoes?— up onto the sofa, turning to the side and tucking his toes under Tilly’s leg before answering.

“Jim!” Tilly yelped. “Why the hell are your feet that cold?” she groused. But Jim didn’t move and Tilly didn’t make him move, just pulled down the throw on the back of the sofa and threw it over his legs.

He told them about what they’d missed while they were gone. Some of it they knew: the way that the Klingon Empire had returned to House factions, the sneak attacks, the monumental losses, and so on. Some of it they hadn’t realized: Jim had attended the memorial service for Discovery’s crew, the Farragut had taken heavy damage in attacks and still they’d been ordered to Earth, Jim had suffered multiple injuries at the hands of Klingons, and worked tirelessly on repair crews. “I still have a mark here. Don’t worry, it’ll heal up entirely in a few weeks,” he said, lifting up the hem of his shirt to show the red jagged line that must have been a bad wound in his side. Tilly hissed. “I’m fine, really,” Jim implored, smoothing his shirt back down.

“What does Pyszczek think of your temporary battle scars?” Tilly asked aiming for light hearted teasing and misfiring completely.

Jim looked confused. “Alex? Probably not a lot, nowadays. We broke up. They’re transferring to a science ship set to do a bunch of surveys on planets that Enterprise flagged as interesting. But enough about me. Where were you? How did you all end the war anyway?”

Tilly looked at Michael. “Unfortunately,” Michael started, “most of that is classified.”

“You’re joking.”

Tilly shook her head. “All I can tell you is that there was a really weird spatial anomaly, it was less than a month for us, and we really didn’t mean to disappear at all, let alone be gone for nine months. It wasn’t great, where we were, but you had it a lot worse.”

“It’s not a competition, Tilly,” Jim chided gently. “So, what can you tell me?”

“We went to Qo’nos, as in we were actually on Qo’nos. But only the really seedy Orion parts.”

Jim stared at Tilly and looked over at Michael. She could only nod. Tilly’s account was accurate. “Incidentally,” Tilly added, “that rumor about male Klingon genital redundancy… totally true.”

And that was close to the top of the list of things Michael did not want to think about or remember or even have a chance to verify in the first place. And it only led to terrible thoughts, for example, that her ex-boyfriend—her first boyfriend—was a surgically altered Klingon male who had tried to crush her skull and her trachea when in his own mind and not the mind of a Starfleet lieutenant and she’d—She stopped thinking about it with some effort.

“Goddammit Tilly. How the hell—”

“One of them was taking a leak in an alley. Two streams. And I was not looking, but it was hard to miss and he kind of leered at me.”

“He was leering at everyone,” Michael corrected, pleased at how even her voice was. As difficult as growing up Human on Vulcan was at some points, it was not without its benefits.

“Shit.” Jim refilled his glass.

“Oh, and I totally got high off of these volcanic fumes and I don’t know what else.”

Jim set the bottle down with a clatter. “How are you even alive right now? High off your ass and surrounded by Orions. Good god. Where was the rest of the landing party? Michael, where were you?”

“Gathering intel. She was supposed to be with the ranking officer of the landing party.” Which, on paper, should have been safe enough. However, it was painfully clear that Emperor Georgiou and Captain Georgiou were only to be mistaken for each other at a grave cost. After all, her captain wouldn’t have done any of that. Really, despite ending well, most of that mission was not the highlight of her career as a Science Specialist.

“Where were they?”

“Having a threesome with two Orions,” Tilly answered.

“Wh—And they just left you? Alone? To fend for yourself?” Jim looked like he was developing a headache, if the way he was pinching the bridge of his nose was any indication.

“Yeah.”

“I should have been there. Somehow. Someone has to make sure you don’t get high on random fumes…”

“Are you kidding me? With your youthful baby face? You would have been eaten alive,” Tilly said and Michael couldn’t help but agree. They both looked young to her.

“I don’t have a baby face.”

“Yeah, you still kinda do, not as much as when we were plebes, but still,” Tilly argued back. “Also, there was a stand that sold gormagander…”

Michael listened as Tilly filled Jim in on what she could with an ear to making sure Tilly didn’t spill anything she shouldn’t. Once the conversation went on to safer topics, she drifted. She’d always been the type to become sleepy after a little wine, not that she’d known that about herself until she had been on the Shenzhou for a couple of years.

She was vaguely aware of the clink of glass on glass at some point, the hum of the sanitation cycle on the food synthesizer, the creak of a recycler door, and the rustling of fabric from the sleeping area behind the privacy screen. A soft voice whispered, ”Jim?”

And another replied, “Go back to sleep, Tilly.” The same soft voice said, “Michael?” But it didn’t seem important to reply. “Michael?” A soft sigh. “Commander Burnham?”

She opened her eyes, responding to her rank more than anything. “Hey, sorry to wake you, but I didn’t think you’d want to sleep in a chair,” Jim said.

“You’re right. What time is it?”

“O dark thirty or 0125, whichever you prefer.”

Michael groaned and stretched as she got up. “Where’s Tilly?”

“I put her in her bed,” Jim said, nodding his head in the direction of the sleeping area. “Will you be alright getting back?” Jim asked as he put his shoes back on. She appreciated the offer, but she didn’t need any assistance and said as much.

Jim was unfazed. “Okay, see you bright and early… later today, then?”

“Affirmative. Good night.”

“Night.”

                                                                                                    


	18. Morning Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time, no see. The last few months have been absolutely a mess for me, but I really am sorry I didn't get this posted ages ago. Either way, the pace of posting should pick up a little now that the holidays and all their hecticness are out of the way.   
> I might have played a little with the timeline here, hazy as it is, but it works, so I'm keeping it.

Tilly shut off her alarm with exactly the correct amount of vitriol, according to her mood. Strictly speaking, that was approximately fifteen times more than was required. The computer panel gave a demure beep in response. Whoever had decided that going on a morning run after staying up late drinking wine was a good idea was an asshole.

Oh, right, that was past her. Past drunk her, to be precise. Damn it. She rolled out of the bed… which come to think of it, she didn't remember even going to bed. That must be Jim's work. She couldn't picture Michael picking her up and tucking her in. Jim on the other hand, yep. That was something he would do.

The first thing she wanted to do was to brush her teeth, something she had not done last night. Gross. She took stock of her hair as she brushed. Frizzed to the point it was almost defying gravity, it was hopeless. Experimentally, to assess the damage, she ran her fingers through it until they got stuck. It was hopelessly tangled to boot. She would have sighed, except that seemed like a bad idea with a toothbrush in her mouth.

With some effort, she managed to get it into a messy ponytail, which would have to do until she took a shower after the run. She put on her regulation exercise clothing and grabbed a jacket. It even looked cold outside. She headed down to the lobby to meet Jim.

He was already there because of course he was. Out of all the monikers he'd gained at the academy, the one he'd deserved, but didn't get was punctual. He got tomcat instead. Which wasn't even accurate as far as Tilly was concerned. Sure, Jim flirted. He flattered. He dated. There had always been a certain amount of charming people into giving him what he wanted… Like letting him out of the cell when they'd been captured on that colony, for example. The people Jim did date seldom had anything bad to say about him, even if they wanted nothing to do with him after the breakup. 

However, on mornings like this, Tilly did have something bad to say about him. He usually could bounce back from a late night of indulgence like nobody's business, but that didn't seem to be the case this time. For once, he didn't look any better off than she was and it was a little alarming, to be honest.

"Oh, good, you're here. Let's get this over with so I can have coffee," Jim said.

“Good morning to you, too,” Tilly said a bit taken aback. Clearly the late-night had gotten to Jim more than anticipated. “You sure you don't want to have any before we go? You look like you're about to fall asleep standing up.”

"Well, honestly, if you were late, I was going to go back to bed. Sam called me last night. The idiot forgot about the time difference and then I couldn't get back to sleep for what seemed like forever," Jim said as he pressed his fingertips into his brow bone and Tilly knew he was fighting off a headache on top of everything.

"We could just go back to sleep," Tilly offered.

Jim dropped his hands and shook his head. "No, not if we want to get into the CTP." He patted her shoulder and began to sound more like himself again. "Also, can I just say, it's not that fair that your ship name looks awesome on a shirt."

"Just lucky I guess," Tilly said. "What does yours look like?"

Jim made a face. "You should zip up your jacket. It's chilly out." He started for the door.

"That bad, huh?"

"The less said the better."

 

It was definitely cold and the sun still wasn't up yet when they started. The weak predawn light did nothing to lift Tilly's mood and it didn't seem to be helping Jim's either.

"What the hell are we doing out this early?" Jim asked.

"Uh, stretching?" Tilly said, bending her knee and grabbing her foot so she could stretch her quadriceps.

"We're on leave, though."

"This was a mutual decision."

"Past us made a dumb decision."

Tilly had to agree as they began a warm-up jog. They weren't even the only Starfleet personnel out for a run this morning. They were almost certainly on leave too. They'd all lost their collective marbles, she and Jim included. But here they were because the qualifications for the Command Training Program did not care about whether or not you were on leave.

At least the scenery was nice to look at, once it got light enough to see it. Paris was going into autumn with aplomb. There were still some green deciduous trees around, but a lot of the others were shading to fiery reds and oranges. She took note of a ginkgo tree, it's leaves had already begun to blanket the ground around it. At least their path was clear of leaves. It had rained which meant any drifts of leaves would be extra slippery. Breaking an ankle or her neck was not on Tilly's list of activities for this leave.

"Cataloguing the differences since you were last here?" Jim asked in between breaths.

"Not really."

"What no trip down memory lane?"

"Didn't spend time in this part of the city."

It'd been several years since she'd spent longer than a day or two in any part of France. When she was at the Academy, if anyone in her family wanted to visit, they found it was easier to come and see her. Granna and Quinn had been her most frequent visitors, making time to see her every time they passed through on their way to somewhere else. On the other hand, if Tilly went somewhere it was related to Starfleet or her research or she was with the Kirks.

She'd spent a lot of time with them during school breaks when she wasn't posted as a midshipman. It all started because her family was so small and busy and spread out and Jim could not comprehend Tilly spending winter break on campus by herself. She'd been nervous about it all, and then she'd found out who his parents were. The idea of spending break with strangers who wildly outranked her made her half-sick just to think about it…

It had to be against some regulation somewhere.

"Don't worry about that”, Jim had said. "It'll be fine.”

"But what if I do something and they kill my career before I've even really started to have a career?"

"Like what?"

Tilly opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

"See? You can't even think of what you'd do." Jim picked up her luggage and his own. "Come on, they just called our number," he added before she could balk.

She caught up to him and took her bag back. He grinned at her.

"Seriously, though, don't worry. I'll help you pick out a gift for them and Mom and Dad parent any of my friends who are in range. You'll just be one of the kids."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that if we show up before Sam does, you'll have the choice of the guest room or Sam's room," Jim said, stowing his bag and retaking hers to stow it as well.

"That doesn't seem fair."

Jim shrugged, seemingly not caring about fairness where his older brother was concerned. “One of them has a bigger bed and Sam's girlfriend will inevitably show up at some point. So choose wisely."

"What are you grinning about?" Jim asked, pulling Tilly out of her reverie.

Their pace had dropped down to a jog without her noticing. They were also farther along the route than she had realized. She filled him in.

"Yeah, it's a shame that Mom and Dad couldn't stick around longer yesterday, but Sam said that he and Aurelan are coming over soon."

"To visit?"

"Not exactly. Sort of a last hurrah before they move out to some colony." Jim shook his head. "If I ever try to move to a colony, Tilly, slap me upside the head till I see sense."

"No problem. I'll be there with as soon as I can."

Jim had reason to believe that colonies were out to get him and, given his experiences, she couldn't blame him. She couldn't even call him irrational or a victim of confirmation bias. Bad things had happened while Jim was on colonies far too frequently. He had sworn off visiting colonies without a security team, at least the ones that didn't have a large Starfleet presence already. That wasn't entirely realistic for a Starfleet officer, at least until they were deciding all of the away teams.

"You don't have to be so enthusiastic about it. It's almost like you want to smack some sense into me."

"Well, it wouldn't be the worst thing to happen to you."

"Okay, true, but let’s hope it won’t come to that.”

They ramped up their pace into a full run for a while and it made it too difficult to have a conversation. Eventually, though, they dropped back down to a jog again.

"Your crew seems nice. The ones I met, I mean," Jim said.

"Even Stamets?"

“He was different than I expected. Quieter."

Now she'd put her foot in it. How to even begin to explain what Stamets had been through, even if she could say everything?

"He went through the wringer. He had to have some implants put in and spent some time in a coma." There, that was about the limit of what she could say.

"And he lost his husband. That's rough. From what you said, Dr. Culber seemed like a really good person."

"He was."

How did Jim even know about Culber's death? Oh. Right, the posthumous medal, Tilly remembered. That made things kind of obvious. It also killed the conversation for a while. Their pace picked up again, by mutual silent agreement, and they kept it up until it was time to cool down before returning to their building.

"So, what happened to Michael to make you glare at me if I even glance at her?" Jim asked, catching Tilly by surprise.

The phrasing was nonchalant, but she could tell he desperately wanted to know. Something in the set of his jaw gave him away.

"She had a bad break up, not too long ago," she started.

She left out the whole confusing Klingon part, but it wasn't forbidden for her to say that Ash had turned out not to be the person he had seemed to be at first. She left out the bit where that had sort of gone full circle… There were some things she really could not explain without revealing classified information. And even Ash (duplicate Ash?) had been surprised by the whole thing. Jim could understand being taken in by the facade a person presented to the world.

Jim had exactly one catastrophic romantic relationship in his past. So did Michael, actually, but Tilly couldn't compare the two beyond that. Michael and Ash had been fine… until things had gone really bad, really fast. The ordeal was intense but relatively quick. Jim's had been a sprawling year-long trial. There had even been times when she wasn't sure she was ever going to see Jim again—for one terrible girlfriend-related reason or another. It had only ended when Janice Lester had failed a psychiatric evaluation… and if Tilly had been the one to inform Commodore Nogura that Cadet Lester was acting erratically… well, no one needed to know. Janice had hated Tilly from the jump, though she had acted friendly for the first couple of months. The issue was that, no matter what Janice tried, Tilly didn't give up.

Tilly's childhood had been lonely. She'd moved around a lot and was functionally an only child—often she was the only child around. Friends were few and far between. Just when she'd managed to make a friend she either moved or managed to drive them away somehow. And at the Academy, she'd been guaranteed four years or so in the same place, with the some of the same people around. She couldn't have a roommate, sure, but she could have friends, even if she wasn't sure how she was going to go about making any.

Then she'd met Jim. He'd been kind to her. He asked interesting questions in class. He was always reading something fascinating and complex. He told stupid jokes. He walked around with a group of people hanging around him, but not quite with him. They were in all the same classes their first term. He didn't care a bit that her mother was on the Federation Security Council. He loathed the entire fungus kingdom for reasons he refused to voice. If you couldn't make beer, bread, medicine, or cheese with it, he didn't want to hear about it.

She'd never wanted to be someone's friend so badly. Maybe, considering their irreconcilable differences over the field of mycology, that didn't make any sense. But Tilly had worked to be Jim Kirk's friend. Oh, Jim could walk into a room alone and walk out half an hour later knowing everyone's name and with hangers-on, but being his close friend wasn't that easy. He was closed off in subtle, but important ways to almost everyone, especially when they first met. But once he trusted her, he became the best friend she'd ever had.

Tilly wasn't about to let Janice isolate him so she could obliterate him.

That wasn't what she was worried about now. Jim and Michael weren't likely to be completely destructive forces in each other's lives. However, any romantic liaison right now would fall in the category of a rebound. The only place that could lead was a slightly embarrassing break up and Tilly facing a lifetime of sitting awkwardly between them making small talk. Call her selfish, but that wasn't how she wanted to spend her time.

Also, Jim was an ensign and Michael was a commander again. While Starfleet had lax regulations around fraternization, Michael played by a different rulebook entirely. Keyla had once said that Michael was friendly and cordial but usually only in a superficial way, at least that's how she acted on the Shenzhou around the junior officers and enlisted. But she wasn't very social at all in her off-hours. Tilly had no idea how much that was going to snap back into place with Michael's commission.

From the party, before Mudd had gotten involved, Tilly knew that Michael had firm delineations for "people who are acceptable to socialize with when off-duty" and "people who are not acceptable to socialize with when off-duty" and the first list was incredibly short. It was likely a holdover from being on Vulcan. Sure, Michael had relaxed a lot, being removed from near the top of the hierarchy will do that for a person. Nothing like realizing a newly enlisted crewman outranked you for removing all barriers to shipboard socialization. Still, a commander being in a fling with an ensign likely counted as unseemly to Michael.

Tilly didn't explain all the gory details to Jim, of course. She stuck to the safe basic information: bad break up, recent breakup, don't make my life more awkward than it is I am begging you, the fraternization rules that existed only in Michael's head, seriously if you sleep with my roommate I will disown you, this year has been hell on everyone let's not make it worse, I don't think you're her type, etc.

Jim was torn between laughing and glowering at her. His mouth wouldn't stop twitching. They were close to their starting point now and Jim took her hand and pulled her into a little courtyard on the Starfleet campus.

"Okay, okay. It's just a crush and I'm officially under no illusions about it being anything else. Anyway, you know I'm not going to do anything if she's not interested and I can't have you disowning me. You'd start a trend."

"I thought you liked it when Sam won't speak to you."

"I like annoying Sam. Can't do that if he's ignoring me. It's anathema to the entire concept of being a little brother"

"Ah, I stand corrected."

Jim hummed and said, "So, when are you going to admit you just want Michael all to yourself and that's why you're being so weird?"

She was frozen to the spot. Seeing an opportunity to escape, he turned on his heel and walked away before she could reply.

"That's— That's not even— I don't—Jim! Stop running away from me!" She yelled, trying to keep up with him.

"No!" He broke into a sprint.

She caught up with him in their building's lobby.

"Lies. Vicious lies," she said in a hiss.

He smirked at her. "Keep telling yourself that. The only one lying here is you to yourself." He bounced on his toes and headed for the stairs.

"Oh, just shut up," Tilly mumbled following him.


	19. Breakfast

Michael began her day more than an hour after Jim and Tilly had begun theirs, although she didn't know it. She'd permitted herself to sleep in this morning. She really didn't think Jim and Tilly would have been able to get up very early. And she was on leave, officially. She didn't have any meetings. There were no more debriefings in her immediate future. Sure, she would have to occasionally help out Saru with the ship's business as his de facto first officer.

She sent a message to Tilly asking if she was up and about yet before getting ready for her day. They'd agreed to meet for breakfast and figure out an itinerary for their stay in the city. Michael had been expecting this planning to happen last night, but Jim and Tilly (predictably, Michael had to admit now) had been far more interested in catching up. Therefore, after the first hour or so, Michael had been rapidly gaining interest in napping in a chair.

So, all the planning had been tabled until today.

Michael checked her comm, but Tilly hadn't responded yet. She didn't have Jim's comm details to be able to call him and she realized now that was completely unacceptable. She would have to fix that today.

For now, she could spend a little more time figuring out what to wear. Amanda had anticipated her pardon and brought some of her possessions from Vulcan, mostly civilian clothes she didn't remember acquiring. Clothing was Michael's least favorite part of leave—she actually had to figure out what to wear and most of her wardrobe still had a decidedly Vulcan feel. Unsurprising since Amanda had shopped for her in absentia.

Michael wondered if Amanda had told Sarek about her purchases ahead of time. The sheer illogic of getting clothes for someone who would hardly have a chance to wear them even if pardoned must have been unsettling for him. And Sarek had been introduced to the reality that his children had personal style preferences when they were teenagers. He knew there was no guarantee that a child (especially an adult child) would wear what was purchased for them by their parents.

Finally, she picked something sensible out and dressed, then her comm finally chimed. Tilly was awake and would meet her in the lobby in ten minutes. After grabbing everything she anticipated needing for the day, Michael headed out.

Jim was already in the lobby when she arrived sitting at one of the armchairs that were arranged in groups around the space. He waved her over.

"Good morning. Did Tilly give you an ETA?" He asked.

That was rather abrupt from him. "Approximately five minutes," she said.

"Great. I think my stomach would try to eat its way out of my abdomen if she takes too much longer."

"That's not physically possible," she said and internally winced, not the greatest reply. Maybe sleeping in had done her no favors.

He squinted at her for half a second, but his mouth crooked up at one corner. "Feels like it is. Going for a run in the morning always leaves me hungry."

"You went for a run?"

"Tilly and I did, yeah. Guess you were zoned out for that part of the conversation last night?" He raised his eyebrows.

She'd probably been asleep. She nodded anyway.

Jim opened his mouth to say something else, but shut it and stood up instead. Michael looked behind her and there was Tilly.

"Are we ready to go? I could really use the caffeine," Tilly said.

"Good morning to you, too."

"What? Oh, good morning, Michael."

"What about me?"

"I've already seen you this morning, Jim. You look like you could use the caffeine, too."

The first stop was getting breakfast, which consisted of pastry and coffee. Not Michael's usual fare for breakfast, but it was apparently essential. Even Jim, whose stomach still had yet to escape its confines or collapse into a singularity like he complained it was attempting to do, insisted on this menu.

"There's nothing like a fresh croissant for breakfast in Paris, trust me," he said before he and Tilly ordered enough for the three of them.

Tilly rolled her eyes as Jim spoke in what she termed, "annoyingly perfect French, even if his accent is wrong."

"What's wrong with my accent?"

"It's not exactly Parisian, it sounds more Quebecois than anything else," Tilly replied.

"So what? It still works, doesn't it."

They took their breakfast away and ate outdoors. It was warm enough in the sunshine and it allowed Michael to continue to look around, which in the time she'd been here had become her principle activity. She'd been to Earth before, of course: with her parents, with her foster parents, with Philippa… She hadn't been to Earth since her time on the Shenzhou and she'd never expected to see it again after she'd been convicted. Not like this, where she could do as she pleased, at any rate.

The architecture kept capturing her attention. Some of it was centuries old and ornate, contrasting with the sleek modern buildings. She'd seen ancient architecture before, of course. Some Vulcan buildings in the province she grew up in dated from Surak's time and some were even from earlier. They were all now lacking their original stone carvings due to desert storms and the occasional torrential rainfall. Some pieces had even been put away in museums rather than left in the elements.

Where Vulcan was full of rusty red tones that made up the natural landscape and the buildings that were hewn from it, Paris was a radically different palette. It had limestone, slate, and oxidized metal, giving it a cool blues and grays with hints of glittering gilt and stained glass and verdant green. Her mind studied the similarities in the newer buildings with glass or transparent aluminum and high-tech alloys. Still, Paris had the upper hand when it came to green spaces and places outside where you actually wanted to sit. The daytime weather was downright frigid compared to Shi-khar and had none of the dust and sand. Just silt with the river Seine and the staggering number of bridges that spanned it.

They were sitting at one of the pleasant green places now. Well, Jim and Tilly were sitting. She was standing a little further away, which had nothing to do with her companions and everything to do with the gigantic aggressive-looking pigeons. She'd heard that Australia had these birds that would dive at humans during a certain time of the year and she was beginning to wonder if they'd ended up here and taught the local pigeons the trick based on the bloodthirsty look in their eyes. She was still keeping tabs on Jim and Tilly's conversation, although she could not make heads nor tails of it. Where they seriously discussing the physics of squirrels and, she hoped that it was only mock seriousness in their tone, the possibility of a quantum squirrel? Whatever that would be. Michael didn't even see any squirrels around. Did France even have squirrels? Her hand reached for a tricorder or even a PADD that wasn't there. She sighed. She'd have to remember to look that up later.

"Michael come here and tell Jim that you don't want to do a tour of the sewers," Tilly called.

Michael looked at them. Jim was smiling at her and Tilly looked exasperated by the idea.

"I do not want to spend my leave in sewers," Michael affirmed.

"Oh, come on, think of them as giant Jefferies' Tubes with a guided tour included," Jim said.

Tilly made a derisive snorting noise. "We've all spent way too much time in Jefferies' Tubes for that to sound appealing Jim."

"They would also smell worse than Jefferies' Tubes."

"Yeah, it's not like they'd have a starship level air circulation, recycling, and filtering system equipped. The poor thing would work itself to death."

"They must have something," Jim mused, "Otherwise the ammonia and such would build-up, it was a problem with early sewer systems that the gasses would build up and they'd explode. Well, usually they'd back up into a house and the house would explode."

"Jim, why do you know that?" Tilly asked.

"I'm never bored in a library."

"Is that an answer?" Michael wondered.

"It's enough," Tilly said. "Let's start with the Place Du Trocadero, it's early enough that it won't be so busy."

"Okay, fine, let's be boring." Jim brushed away any crumbs as he stood up and Michael backed away just in case any of the leering pigeons took it as an invitation.

"It won't be boring for Michael," Tilly said. "She's never been there before, right Michael?"

"Correct," Michael said falling into step with the group as they headed away from the rapidly descending pigeons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are squirrels in France, Michael. 
> 
> This feels a bit short, but it was a good place to break it, next time they'll be in the really starting their touristy adventures.


	20. Tourists

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael, Tilly, and Jim do some sightseeing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness. It's been a while. I'm sorry for that, but on the bright side, I reread this and decided I didn't hate it so I'm posting it.   
> Anyway, I hope you're all well and staying safe and indoors and away from people if at all possible. If you're on the frontlines or at home and sick, I hope this distracts you for even half a second.

The Place Du Trocadero when they arrived was a fascinating structure and a beautiful one as well. Michael wasn't sure why she would have expected anything else. 

"Michael? You coming?" Tilly asked. She and Jim were looking back at her. She'd stopped dead in her tracks. She felt her cheeks heat and hurried forward until she'd caught up with them, crossing several meters.

"Sorry." She looked at the ground.

"Oh, it gets everyone the first time."

"Some more than others. Especially if they grew up in Iowa."

"You make it sound like I grew up isolated in the sticks."

"Doesn't a farm imply a certain rural environment?"

"Yeah, yeah, city slicker. Ignore my off-world experiences and that Starfleet operates several—"

Jim said more, but Michael went to make a circuit around. She still heard the echoes of the verbal sparring. Some things Jim and Tilly talked about were better heard from a distance and with only a fraction of her attention. Why focus on squirrels and the merits of cornfields when she could experience this city. They moved slowly to the Point D'Lena and then the Eiffel Tower.

"It was originally considered very ugly when it was built and it was supposed to be torn down after only twenty years."

"It grew on people, though," Tilly chimed in.

"Yeah, and proved useful as a radio transmitter to boot. We should take a picture with it. I bet I can get the angle right to do the thing where it looks like you're holding it on your palm,” Jim said.

"Forced perspective," Michael said, under her breath.

"No, Jim, don’t. Last time you tried this it took forever."

"It did not, _you_ are just impatient."

"Let's just take a normal group photo, after all, there's a lot more to see." Tilly looked beseechingly at Michael.

But Michael was calculating. She walked swiftly away from them.

"See what you did? Michael, where are you going?" Tilly followed her with Jim close behind.

Michael stopped. "If you take the picture from here, the illusion should work."

Jim walked to her and looked at the display. "Holy shit. You did the math for that in your head?"

"Yes." That was one of the benefits of Vulcan education she supposed. 

Jim took his novelty picture and then they all squished together for a group shot with the command to say cheese. Afterward, they decided to get a bird's eye view from the tower as well.

"So, where should we go after this?" Tilly asked during the ride to the viewing platform.

"The Hôtel des Invalides is pretty close. We can take the scenic route through the Parc du Champ de Mars," Jim suggested.

“I don't know what's on exhibit at Invalides right now, I didn't look it up." Tilly bit her lip, wringing her hands together before dropping them to her sides.

"I didn't look either," Jim admitted. "They've always had something I've found interesting when I've been there before and if we get bored we can head to a bistro for lunch or something."

"Hungry already?" Tilly went to poke Jim in the stomach, but he dodged and she put her hand down. "I told you that you should have gotten another croissant."

"Yes, yes. I bow to your infinite foresight and wisdom." He bowed slightly with a flourish of his hands that managed to convey sarcasm.

"You know I was going to give you the croissant I have in my pack until you did that."

Jim's mouth hung open for a second before he caught himself and tried to wheedle his way back into her good graces… and a croissant.

Michael left them to it, walking to another vantage point. Did friends really squabble this much or was it just Jim and Tilly? Not that either of them seemed to take it seriously. It was something she'd never mastered in her comparable relationships. Not that she had many of those.

She looked out onto the city. It was breathtaking up here. The city with its avenues sprawled out around her in all directions. She tried to identify the different landmarks, with limited success, she only knew the really common ones. She'd been too busy to research the city. She knew the basics, but otherwise, she was so far content to be guided by Tilly and Jim.

"It is beautiful up here. One doesn't expect so much beauty from one view," a man beside her said. "Don't you think?"

Michael wasn't so sure about that. There was something about the raw beauty of a nebula or the way planets with their satellites bathed in the reflected light of stars that would always capture her more than anything else. She loved being in space. It always called to her.

"I suppose," she responded to be polite.

"Of course the view is not always so fine."

"Oh," Michael said, her voice sounded flat to her ears. This was a pick-up line, wasn't it? She couldn't help but be a little disappointed by that.

"You don't believe me? Then I shall have to find some way to convince you. What do you say to—"

"Oh, there you are. Jim and I were looking for you. Are you ready to go?" Tilly materialized next to her, a remarkable feat without a transporter beam, but Michael wasn't about to question it.

"Yes, I think so."

"Excuse me, I am conversing with—,” the man said.

"I do not care. Okay? Okay. Let's go."

They met Jim by the elevator.

"Everything okay?" Jim asked.

"I think so," Tilly said.

Michael saw the man when she turned back to the lift doors after getting in, but he didn't follow or even look at her. But she didn't mind.

The walk to Hôtel des Invalides was quiet, in part because Tilly had relented and given Jim the leftover croissant. The air had warmed a bit more, but there was still a brisk quality to the breeze. It made the warmth of the building incredibly welcome. Which lasted until they got to a display before one of the main exhibits. All three of them stopped when they saw it. At first glance, it was a map of the Federation filling the center of the room, but Michael recognized stardates, registry numbers, and names.

It was a plot map of casualties, a war memorial. Her eye involuntarily caught on NCC-1227, Captain Philippa Georgiou-KIA.

No matter how long she lived or what she did, she was never going to be able to escape the Battle at the Binary Stars. In some small way she'd always live in those moments, she realized. But it didn't quite sting as much as she thought it would, the way it had when she was in prison or first on Discovery or in that holding room. Maybe it was the phantom weight of her insignia that eased the sting.

"Is it just me or are some of these numbers made up?" Jim asked under his breath.

"Thanks for saying something. I thought I was having a weirdly specific hallucination," Tilly replied.

"It's probably for security reasons,” Michael added.

As they stood there the image changed with the blue and white turning red, representing the loss of Federation territory to the Klingons. What the map didn't show was that it had all been returned as a condition of the cease-fire.

"Come on," Jim said, "We lived his and I for one don't need to watch it."

"Yeah, it almost feels ghoulish." Tilly walked along behind him, half skipping a couple of steps to catch up with him. With a final look, Michael followed, cursing their longer legs once again.

 

The rest of their time at Invalides was slightly more light-hearted although the exhibit on the Federation-Romulan War was tough to get through. It was also a bit odd as an exhibit because it couldn't show what the Romulans looked like. There had been a rumor that they were an offshoot of Vulcans, but Michael wasn't sure how much credence to give it. It was the sort of thing that was only whispered about, mostly behind closed doors. Not something to bring up at the dinner table, which was where they were now.

"You know when I got back to Iowa and to real food, I almost cried," Jim said. "Then Sam managed to set toast on fire and I realized synthesizers weren't always such a bad thing." Jim took a bite of his stew.

"How did Sam do that?"

"Don't know exactly. I just woke up to the smoke alarm and Sam saying everything was under control with a fire extinguisher in his hands."

"That must have been a mess," Tilly said.

"Oh, it was. I asked Aurelan if she really wanted to deal with two children on a colony world, but she ignored me."

"Which colony are they moving to?" Michael asked.

"Deneva, I think. I'd rather stay on a starship for the rest of my life than settle on a colony."

"That's not saying much. You'd rather be stuck in a weird anomaly than be stuck in a colony."

"True."

"Deneva is a well-established colony, noted for its extensive research facilities and prime location in its sector. Your brother could do worse."

"How do you do that?"

"What do you mean?"

"Where do you keep it all. I had to look it up when Sam mentioned it. I mean I know all kinds of things from Shakespeare to Melville to the Starfleet Manual, but you're something else."

"I just can," Michael said.

"She's not even part robot." Tilly glanced at Michael. "Sorry, I mean Michael doesn't have any cybernetics. I know I sound a bit insensitive when I say it like that but's it's all Lieutenant Commander Airiam's fault, her and Keyla— I mean Lieutenant Detmer." Tilly corrected after another glance at Michael.

"I'm glad Keyla and Airiam can have a sense of humor about their injuries."

"It's better than crying or feeling down in the dumps about it. That's what they say."

"Still, I don't think you should say things like that when you aren't sure who will hear. It's easy to misconstrue."

"Okay. Yeah, you're right."

They were quiet for a while and then Jim asked, "So, Michael what was growing up on Vulcan like?"

"Tell him about the schools. The Vulcan education system sounds so intense. I can't imagine doing that. I probably wouldn't have been able to hold still for long enough."

"What do you mean?"

Which was how Michael ended up explaining her school career for the rest of the meal, with a little aside for deciding to go to the Arc de Triomphe.

"No offense, but that all sounds pretty horrifying."

"I'm still trying to picture you will a bowl cut," Tilly added.

"It wasn't great."

"Do you have pictures?"

"—No."

"Oh, someone does. Awkward phases documented of posterity are almost a Human rite of passage. I have some doozies, which you may not ask my parents about," Jim said stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets.

Tilly laughed.

"Oh, like you're any better."

The conversation stopped when they got to the Arc de Triomphe. As Michael had found out, it had recently been reopened after a repair and she was on the lookout for any obvious signs of the recent work, but all thoughts of this left when she got to the top and saw the Paris skyline outlined against the sunset. It was worth the cold and relatively long trip back to their temporary lodgings. She looked toward the Vulcan Embassy, which was reflecting the light and looked warmer than it ever had before.

She'd have to stop in to see Sarek before they shipped out, but not today. Today and tomorrow were for moments like this. Beautiful vistas and friends to share them with.


	21. Visiting Granna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner with Tilly's grandparents. What could possibly go wrong?

Tilly was nervous as she stood on her Granna's doorstep. She racked her brain for why, but nothing came up. Their message hadn't been ominous. They'd met Jim before and liked him. When she'd mentioned Michael they'd been curious. Still, a feeling of dread hung over her like an albatross.

From the corner of her eye she saw Jim glance at her and then his arm reached out and rang the doorbell.

The next few minutes were a blur of introductions and hugs and coats being taken and hung up. Tilly didn't know what she or anyone else said, but everything must have gone alright. They were ushered into the sitting room while Granna went and checked on the food. Tilly got up to help, but Granna pushed her gently back down into her chair.

The problem with Granna and Quinn wanting to see her was that they wanted to know what she'd been doing. They wanted to know why she'd been presumed dead for nine months. Of course, they wanted to know that, who wouldn't want to know? Most of her activities on Discovery were heavily classified, that was where the problem really was.

Jim could talk about boarding parties and defending depots and getting in firefights. The Farragut's movements during the war, like most of the ships of the line, had been guarded. But now, no one cared too much about what sector they'd been patrolling during what month. That was all moot.

The Spore Drive, Ripper the Tardigrade, Stamets' auto-eugenics, Ash Tyler the Klingon Sleeper Agent, Captain Lorca's true identity, the fact that they'd threatened mutiny to prevent genocide and instead played a hand in installing what was essentially a puppet chancellor (although if any Klingon could be a puppet was… debatable) in the Klingon Empire… All of that was classified. She couldn't even say something innocuous like, "I got to do a shift on the Bridge" because Jim was there and he'd ask questions she couldn't answer. There wasn't a good answer for why a cadet would do a shift on the bridge in the captain's chair without bringing in the whole impersonating an alternate version of herself who was captain of Discovery. Oh, and dead. Very, very dead.

She was looking forward to the day when they both had a high enough security clearance that she could just tell him all this stuff. It'd just be nice to tell someone who didn't have their own horrible baggage about the Terran Empire for once. Who knew when that was going to happen, though?

She had to demure or dissemble on a lot of the questions. Jim and Michael ended up carrying a lot of the conversation. Strictly speaking, she didn't think this was what Granna and Quinn had in mind for this evening, but at least this way someone was talking. And they were talking about things other than how Granna and Quinn had thought she was dead and gotten stuck away from Earth for months since travel had become precarious through so much of the Federation. Although, being stuck on Betazed and then Risa did not sound like the worst fate. Though with Tilly missing and her mother on the Security Council, they would have worried wherever they were.

But they made it through dinner and Tilly began to relax. Then the doorbell rang.

Granna and Quinn looked at each other.

"Who could that be?"

"Don't worry dear, I'll go and see. Be back in a mo'," Quinn said.

The tension Tilly had been felling ratcheted up again. Whoever was at the door, this wasn't going to go well for Tilly. Of that, she was entirely certain.

"Look who I found skulking around outside," Quinn announced as he walked in.

"Mom?" Tilly said.

"Siobhan, cherie, this is unexpected, but welcome, of course."

"Hello, Maman, Sylvia," Mom looked around the room, "Oh, Ensign Jim Kirk and… Michael Burnham. How delightful to see you here."

Jim squeezed Tilly's forearm under the table.

"Well, have a seat, my dear. You're just in time for dessert and coffee," Granna said before excusing herself and heading for the kitchen. Quinn, the traitor, was right at her heels.

The silence in the room was oppressive.

Tilly didn't know what to say to her mom. There were plenty of things she could have said.

"Why weren't you there when I shipped out?"

"Why did weren't you at the medal ceremony?"

"Why did I find out you attended the memorial from Dad and Jim?"

"Why were you only there when you thought I was dead?"

"Why did you ambush me instead of comming me like any other parent would?"

Her mouth wouldn't work to say any of that. She thought back to the awkward message that Tilly had left with her mother's assistant, the one that hadn't gotten a reply.

When their return had been made public, Tilly had been inundated with messages from classmates, family, even reporters (those she'd just deleted). She'd even gotten messages from Jim's family. But there was one conspicuous absence.

Mom opened her mouth to speak, but instead took a seat next to Michael whose face had taken on a Vulcan blankness, albeit with slightly widened eyes, that Tilly suspected meant that she would rather be anywhere else. Jim's thumb rubbed Tilly's arm, it was as if he thought she were about to bolt. It was tempting, but she wasn't a startled horse, just a startled Human.

"Sylvia," Mom started.

"Tilly," she replied, but it was very quiet and Mom just ignored it.

Jim's hand clasped hers and squeezed. His thumb tapped her hand twice. Do you want help? Do you want out?

She squeezed his hand back. Not yet.

They'd worked this out during that disastrous leave, a silent code that allowed them to alert the other to danger or ask for assistance. It had been vital then and she honestly wished it worked with more people, but sometimes it was enough that it just worked with Jim.

"I read the report on the Qo'nos operation. You were actually on the planet."

"I was part of the away team, yes."

"Why? You're just a cadet. There was no reason for you to be on an away mission."

"She's an ensign now, an officer, same as me. Commander Burnham's an officer, too, Madame Councilor," Jim said. He said this in the same tone other people would say, "Nice weather we're having."

"Yes, of course," Mom replied.

Granna and Quinn came back in with a tart and coffee service, which were doled out efficiently.

"The report didn't explain why you were on that away team, Sylvia," Mom said.

What was she supposed to say? There were civilians here and Jim couldn't know details. Sure the civilians were family, but the erstwhile Philippa Georgiou's identity was shrouded in secrecy. Michael had dropped some of her facade and her lips had parted in shock.

"I was requested by the ship's commander," she said.

"As a cadet? Surely, there must have been someone more qualified."

Tilly just shrugged. There were a lot of people more qualified, but Emperor Georgiou had a soft spot for her and Tilly didn't like thinking about why that would be.

"She was the one our commanding officer wanted on the mission," Michael said. Mom looked at her, surprise written clearly across her face.

If Mom had expected Michael to stay quiet, then she had a spectacularly bad idea of who Michael was. Mom covered up her surprise quickly, this was predictable. Making an enemy of Michael, from Siobhan's perspective, could be making an enemy of Ambassador Sarek—not a great thing for someone in Siobhan's position to do.

"Siobhan, Tilly was telling us about how she's applied for the Command Training Program," Granna said.

"Oh, Sylvia, are you sure you want to do that?"

"Tilly," Jim said. "She prefers to be called 'Tilly', Madame Councilor." He cut a piece of his tart from the slice with the precision of a guillotine.

"Excuse me?"

"She. Prefers. To be called. Tilly." Jim took care to enunciate, staring Siobhan dead in the eye as he did, his hand still clasping Tilly's. "She has done for eight years, Madame Councilor. Certainly, your mind is flexible enough to accept that."

Siobhan's cheeks reddened under her makeup and she looked away.

"I think you'll be accepted into the program, Tilly. You'd be the youngest officer in the program, right?" Quinn said.

"Only because I'm a few months younger than Jim."

"Well, it's the first big step to becoming a senior officer and then a command-level officer. You'll do great." Michael said.

"Syl—Tilly, you're still dreaming of becoming a captain?" Mom asked.

"She'll make a great captain someday, Madame Councilor," Michael said mildly.

"And what would you know about that?" Mom snapped.

Michael picked up her coffee cup and said, "More than you, ma'am."

For one mad moment, Tilly sincerely thought that Michael was going to throw the coffee in Siobhan's face.

"You have some nerve, Commander."

"That's what I'm told, Madame Councilor."

"Perhaps we should talk about something else," Granna said.

It was then that Tilly noticed Quinn was laughing soundlessly in his seat.

"Syl—Tilly, should you be making any big decisions about your Starfleet career right now? You've been through a terrible ordeal, maybe a sabbatical would be—"

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"I said 'no', Mom. I'm going to finish out this leave," her voice rose on every word, "and then I'm getting back on Discovery when it disembarks. I'll join the Command Training Program and I will continue to work toward being a Starfleet Captain. I've wanted to be a Captain since I was sixteen years old and saw what Captain Holden did every day." Her volume dropped right back down. "Right now, I'm an Ensign and a junior officer, but I already hold one of the Fleet's highest honors. And I got that medal because I helped end the fucking war with the Klingons, which I couldn't help but notice that the Security Council failed to do while I was assumed dead for nine months. And I was seconded to Discovery as a cadet because I was the only one in the entire fucking fleet able to do my job. So, Mom, did you ever consider that I am a good officer? That I'm good at my job? That they gave me a stupid high-security clearance as a cadet because I am that trustworthy? Did you ever consider that, Mom? You didn't, did you?" Tilly stood up and walked out of the room and straight out the back door. She needed to breathe.

She was only out there for a few minutes before she heard the door open and shut behind her. Glancing back, she saw Jim. He had his coat on and was carrying hers. She took it from him gratefully; it was quite cold.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey."

"Come here." He wrapped her in a hug and she buried her nose in his shoulder. Despite herself, she started to cry.

"I'm sorry," Jim said, kissing her temple. His hand rubbed her back and he made soft shushing noises until her tears started to subside.

"It's not your fault."

"That doesn't matter, you deserve better. You can have my mom if you want. Mom and Dad can draw up the papers and adopt you. Sam'll be thrilled."

She smiled into Jim's shoulder.

"You're loved, you know that? Your dad loves you. Your granna and Quinn love you. My whole family loves you enough to keep you. I love you. Michael loves you. I don't know why your mom can't show her love in ways that don't hurt you. I really don't. I just have to hope that she'll be sorry she never saw the amazing person you are."

"That's not going to happen."

"Maybe, maybe not. But the rest of us, we see you. We know the amazing things you've done and what you're going to do."

"Thanks, Jim."

"I'm just telling the truth."

"What happened after I left?"

"Well, your granna dragged your mom into the kitchen and they had words. I couldn't catch it all, but it wasn't pretty. I mean, we all thought you were dead and gone. She went to the memorial and everything, then the first time she sees you she pulls this stunt?" Jim shook his head. "I'm pretty sure she wants to wrap you in cotton wool and try to get you into a safer career…"

"Like diplomacy. That's super safe which is why I had a security escort for most of my life."

"Right. She just goes about things in the worst way possible. Probably why my dad always complains about politicians and bureaucrats."

Tilly wanted to know something else. "Why does she listen to you?"

"You want to know what I think?"

"That's why I asked."

"Because she's attracted to me and it grosses her out a little bit."

Tilly nearly gagged. "Ah, god, gross, Jim. Why would you say that?"

"Because it's true."

"Ew. I hope this is just a case where you think everyone's attracted to you."

"Hey, I am not that vain. And I wish I was wrong too, but I don't think I am."

"Ew, Jim."

"It's not great from my perspective, either. The last thing we need is her trying to reenact a weird version of The Graduate in real life."

"What?"

"Oh, I'm glad you didn't get that."

"I'm going to look it up."

"You'll wish you hadn't."

(She did look it up and she did regret it. She sent Jim a message that said, "Why would you do this to me?" He replied, "I did warn you.")

Michael stuck her head out the door, Tilly saw over Jim's shoulder. "I have been reliably informed that you will catch your death if you stand out here any longer." She stepped the rest of the way out and let the door close behind her. "And as interesting as Quinn's stories are, I think he's running out of them."

"That is entirely possible," Tilly said.

"What?"

"She said that is entirely possible. Forgive her, her nose is cold."

"Shut up, Jim."

"Now, she's telling me to stop interpreting Tilly mumbles, but ruder."

"Just come inside," Michael said, exasperated.

Finally pulling out of the hug, they followed her back inside.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is appreciated.  
> [My tumblr](https://bitterific.tumblr.com)


End file.
